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ESSAYS 


SECOND  SERIES 


i_lot\    L/tK)iLlwAl  V/»i  J     Ubi\/-ih» 
L!;-iiVL^S!VY  CF  ( 

JAS!  L-S  1557 

MT.  -  llFORNIA 

tmet 

R.   W.   EMERSON 


NEW  YORK 

JOHN   W.   LOVELL   COMPANY 
150  WORTH  STREET,  CORNER  MISSION  PLACE 


•PS 


CONTENTS. 

888 


ESSAY  I. 

PAGE 

THE  POET,        .........        5 

ESSAY  II. 
EXPERIENCE,    .....  ...      41 

ESSAY  III. 
CHARACTER,  ........      77 

ESSAY   IV. 
MANNERS  .........  101 


ESSAY  V. 
GIFTS,        .  ........     133 

ESSAY  VL 
NATURE,    .        .        .        .....        '.        .139 

ESSAY  VII. 
POLITICS,  ...        .......     Ig3 

ESSAY  VIII. 
NOMINALIST  AND  REALIST  .....  185 


EMANCIPATION    ADDRESS,    DELIVERED    IN    CONCORD, 
MASS. 


THE  POET. 


A  moody  child  and  wildly  wise 

Pursued  the  game  with  joyful  eyes, 

Which  chose,  like  meteors,  their  way, 

And  rived  the  dark  with  private  ray : 

They  overleapt  the  horizon's  edge, 

Searched  with  Apollo's  privilege  ; 

Through  man,  and  woman,  and  sea,  and  star, 

Saw  the  dance  of  nature  forward  far  ; 

Through  worlds,  and  races,  and  terms,  and  times, 

Saw  musical  order,  and  pairing  rhymes. 


Olympian  bards  who  sung 
Divine  ideas  below, 
Which  always  find  us  young, 
And  always  keep  us  so. 


THOSE  who  are  esteemed  umpires  of  taste,  are 
often  persons  who  have  acquired  some  knowledge 
of  admired  pictures  or  sculptures,  and  have  an  in 
clination  for  whatever  is  elegant ;  but  if  yon  in 
quire  whether  they  are  beautiful  souls,  and  whether 
their  own  acts  are  like  fair  pictures,  you  learn  that 
they  are  selfish  and  sensual.  Their  cultivation  is 
local,  as  if  you  should  rub  a  log  of  dry  wood  in  one 
spot  to  produce  fire,  all  the  rest  remaining  cold. 


6  THE  POET. 

Their  knowledge  of  the  fine  arts  is  some  study  of 
rules  and  particulars,  or  some  limited  judgment  of 
color  or  form,  which  is  exercised  for  amusement  or 
for  show.  It  is  a  proof  of  the  shallowness  of  the 
doctrine  of  beauty,  as  it  lies  in  the  minds  of  om 
amateurs,  that  men  seem  to  have  lost  the  percep 
tion  of  the  instant  dependence  of  form  upon  soul. 
There  is  no  doctrine  of  forms  in  our  philosophy. 
We  were  put  into  our  bodies,  as  fire  is  put  into  a 
pan,  to  be  carried  about ;  but  there  is  no  accurate 
adjustment  between  the  spirit  and  the  organ,  much 
less  is  the  latter  the  germination  of  the  former. 
So  in  regard  to  other  forms,  the  intellectual  men  do 
not  believe  in  any  essential  dependence  of  the  ma 
terial  world  on  thought  and  volition.  Theologians 
think  it  a  pretty  air-castle  to  talk  of  the  spiritual 
meaning  of  a  ship  or  a  cloud,  of  a  city  or  a  con 
tract,  but  they  prefer  to  come  again  to  the  solid 
ground  of  historical  evidence  ;  and  even  the  poets 
are  contented  with  a  civil  and  conformed  manner 
of  living,  and  to  write  poems  from  the  fancy,  at  a 
safe  distance  from  their  own  experience.  But  the 
highest  minds  of  the  world  have  never  ceased  to 
explore  the  double  meaning,  or,  shall  I  say,  the 
quadruple,  or  the  centuple,  or  much  more  manifold 
meaning,  of  every  sensuous  fact :  Orpheus,  Emped- 
ocles,  Ileraclitus,  Plato,  Plutarch,  Dante,  Sweden- 
borg,  and  the  masters  of  sculpture,  picture,  and 
poetry.  For  we  are  not  pans  and  barrows,  nor  even 
porters  of  the  fire  and  torch-bearers,  but  children 


THE  POET.  7 

of  the  fire,  made  of  it,  and  only  the  same  divinity 
transmuted,  and  at  two  or  three  removes,  when  we 
know  least  about  it.  And  this  hidden  truth,  that 
the  fountains  when  all  this  river  of  Time,  and  its 
creatures,  floweth,  are  intrinsically  ideal  and  beauti 
ful,  draws  us  to  the  consideration  of  the  nature  and 
functions  of  the  Poet,  or  the  man  of  Beauty,  to  the 
means  and  materials  he  uses,  and  to  the  general  as 
pect  of  the  art  in  the  present  time. 

The  breadth  of  the  problem  is  great,  for  the  poet 
is  representative.  He  stands  among  partial  men 
for  the  complete  man,  and  apprises  us  not  of  his 
wealth,  but  of  the  commonwealth.  The  young 
man  reveres  men  of  genius,  because,  to  speak  truly, 
they  are  more  himself  than  he  is.  They  receive  of 
the  soul  as  he  also  receives,  but  they  more.  Nature 
enhances  her  beauty,  to  the  eye  of  loving  men,  from 
their  belief  that  the  poet  is  beholding  her  shows  at 
the  same  time.  He  is  isolated  among  his  contem 
poraries,  by  truth  and  by  his  art,  but  with  this  con 
solation  in  his  pursuits,  that  they  will  draw  all  men 
sooner  or  later.  For  all  men  live  by  truth,  and 
stand  in  need  of  expression.  In  love,  in  art,  in 
avarice,  in  politics,  in  labor,  in  games,  we  study  to 
utter  our  painful  secret.  The  man  is  only  half  him 
self,  the  other  half  is  his  expression. 

Notwithstanding  this  necessity  to  be  published, 
adequate  expression  is  rare.  I  know  not  how  it  is 
that  we  need  an  interpreter  :  but  the  great  majority 
of  men  seem  to  be  minors,  who  have  not  yet  come 


8  THE  POET. 

into  possession  of  their  own,  or  mutes,  who  cannot 
report  the  conversation  they  have  had  with  nature, 
There  is  no  man  who  does  not  anticipate  a  super- 
sensual  utility  in  the  sun,  and  stars,  earth,  and  wa 
ter.  These  stand  and  wait  to  render  him  a  pecul 
iar  service.  But  there  is  some  obstruction,  or  some 
excess  of  phlegm  in  our  constitution,  which  does  not 
suffer  them  to  yield  the  due  effect.  Too  feeble  fall 
the  impressions  of  nature  on  us  to  make  us  artists. 
Every  touch  should  thrill.  Every  man  should  be  so 
much  an  artist,  that  he  could  report  in  conversation 
what  had  befallen  him.  Yet,  in  our  experience,  the 
rays  or  appulses  have  sufficient  force  to  arrive  at  the 
senses,  but  not  enough  to  reach  the  quick,  and  com 
pel  the  reproduction  of  themselves  in  speech.  The 
poet  is  the  person  in  whom  these  powers  are  in  bal 
ance,  the  man  without  impediment,  who  sees  and 
handles  that  which  others  dream  of,  traverses  the 
whole  scale  of  experience,  and  its  representative  of 
man,  in  virtue  of  being  the  largest  power  to  receive 
and  to  impart. 

For  the  Universe  has  three  children,  born  at  one 
time,  which  reappear,  under  different  names,  in 
every  system  of  thought,  whether  they  be  called 
cause,  operation,  and  effect;  or,  more  poetically, 
Jove,  Pluto,  Neptune  ;  or,  theologically,  the  Father, 
the  Spirit,  and  the  Son  ;  but  which  we  will  call  here, 
the  Knower,  the  Doer,  and  the  Sayer.  These  stand 
respectively  for  the  love  of  truth,  for  the  love  of 
good,  and  for  the  love  of  beauty.  These  three  are 


THE  POET.  9 

equal.  Each  is  that  which  he  is  essentially,  so  that 
lie  cannot  be  surmounted  or  analyzed,  and  each  of 
these  three  has  the  power  of  the  others  latent  in 
him,  and  his  own  patent. 

The  poet  is  the  sayer,  the  namer,  and  represents 
beauty.  He  is  a  sovereign,  and  stands  on  the  centre. 
For  the  world  is  not  painted,  or  adorned,  but  is 
from  the  beginning  beautiful ;  and  God  has  not 
made  some  beautiful  things,  but  Beauty  is  the  crea 
tor  of  the  universe.  Therefore  the  poet  is  not  any 
permissive  potentate,  but  is  emperor  in  his  own 
right.  Criticism  is  infested  with  a  cant  of  materi 
alism,  which  assumes  that  manual  skill  and  activity 
is  the  first  merit  of  all  men,  and  disparages  such  as 
say  and  do  not,  overlooking  the  fact,  that  some  men, 
namely,  poets,  are  natural  sayers,  sent  into  the  world 
to  the  end  of  expression,  and  confounds  them  with 
those  whose  province  is  action,  but  who  quit  it  to 
imitate  the  sayers.  But  Homer's  words  are  as 
costly  and  admirable  to  Homer,  as  Agamemnon's 
victories  are  to  Agamemnon.  The  poet  does  not  wait 
for  the  hero  or  the  sage,  but,  as  they  act  and  think 
primarily,  so  he  writes  primarily  what  will  and  must 
be  spoken,  reckoning  the  others,  though  primaries 
also,  yet,  in  respect  to  him,  secondaries  and  ser 
vants  ;  as  sitters  or  models  in  the  studio  of  a  paint 
er,  or  as  assistants  who  bring  building  materials  to 
an  architect. 

For  poetry  was  all  written  before  time  was,  and 
whenever  we  are  so  finely  organized  that  we  can 


10  THE  POET. 

penetrate  into  that  region  where  the  air  is  music, 
we  hear  those  primal  warblings,  and  attempt  to 
write  them  down,  but  we  lose  ever  and  anon  a  word, 
or  a  verse,  and  substitute  something  of  our  own, 
and  thus  miswrite  the  poem.  The  men  of  more 
delicate  ear  write  down  these  cadences  more  faith 
fully,  and  these  transcripts,  though  imperfect,  be 
come  the  songs  of  the  nations.  For  nature  is  as 
truly  beautiful  as  it  is  good,  or  as  it  is  reasonable, 
and  must  as  much  appear,  as  it  must  be  done,  or 
be  known.  Words  and  deeds  are  quite  indifferent 
modes  of  the  divine  energy.  Words  are  also  ac 
tions,  and  actions  are  a  kind  of  words. 

The  sign  and  credentials  of  the  poet  are,  that  he 
announces  that  which  no  man  foretold.  He  is  the 
true  and  only  doctor  ;  he  knows  and  tells  ;  he  is  the 
only  teller  of  news,  for  he  was  present  and  privy  to 
the  appearance  which  he  describes.  He  is  a  beholder 
of  ideas,  and  an  utterer  of  the  necessary  and  causal. 
For  we  do  not  speak  now  of  men  of  poetical  talents, 
or  of  industry  and  skill  in  metre,  but  of  the  true 
poet.  I  took  part  in  a  conversation  the  other  day, 
concerning  a  recent  writer  of  lyrics,  a  man  of  subtle 
mind,  whose  head  appeared  to  be  a  music-box  of 
delicate  tunes  and  rhythms,  and  whose  skill,  and 
command  of  language,  we  could  not  sufficiently 
praise.  But  when  the  question  arose,  whether  he 
was  not  only  a  lyrist,  but  a  poet,  we  were  obliged  to 
confess  that  he  is  plainly  a  contemporary,  not  an 
eternal  man.  He  does  not  stand  out  of  our  low  lim- 


THE  POET.  11 

itations,  like  a  Chimborazo  under  the  line,  running  up 
from  the  torrid  base  through  all  the  climates  of  the 
globe,  with  belts  of  the  herbage  of  every  latitude  on 
its  high  and  mottled  sides  ;  but  this  genius  is  the 
landscape-garden  of  a  modern  house,  adorned  with 
fountains  and  statues,  with  well-bred  men  and  women 
standing  and  sitting  in  the  walks  and  terraces.    We 
hear,  through  all  the  varied  music,  the  ground-tone 
of  conventional  life.     Our  poets  are  men  of  talents 
who  sing,  and  not  the  children  of  music.    The  argu 
ment  is  secondary,  the  finish  of  the  verses  is  primary. 
For  it  is  not  metres,  but  a  metre-making  argu 
ment,  that  makes  a  poem, — a  thought  so  passionate 
and  alive,  that,  like  the  spirit  of  a  plant  or  an  ani 
mal,  it  has  an  architecture  of  its  own,  and  adorns 
nature  with  a  new  thing.    The  thought  and  the  form 
are  equal  in  the  order  of  time,  but  in  the  order  of 
genesis  the  thought  is  prior  to  the  form.     The  poet 
has  a  new  thought :  he  has  a  whole  new  experience 
to  unfold  ;  he  will  tell  us  how  it  was  with  him,  and 
all  men  will  be  the  richer  in  his  fortune.     For,  the 
experience  of  each  new  age  requires  a  new  confes 
sion,  and  the  world  seems  always  waiting  for  its 
poet.     I  remember,  when  I  was  young,  how  much 
I  was  moved  one  morning  by  tidings  that  genius  had 
appeared  in  a  youth  who  sat  near  me  at  table.     He 
had  left  his  work,  and  gone  rambling  none  knew 
whither,  and  had  written   hundreds  of  lines,  but 
could  not  tell  whether  that  which  was  in  him  was 
therein  told  :  he  could  tell  nothing  but  that  all  was 


12  THE  POET. 

changed, — man,  beast,  heaven,  earth,  and  sea.  Ho\? 
gladly  we  listened  !  how  credulous !  Society  seemed 
to  be  compromised.  We  sat  in  the  aurora  of  a  sun 
rise  which  was  to  put  out  all  the  stars.  Boston 
seemed  to  be  at  twice  the  distance  it  had  the  night 
before,  or  was  much  farther  than  that.  Rome,— 
what  was  Rome?  Plutarch  and  Shakspeare  were 
in  the  yellow  leaf,  and  Homer  no  more  should  be 
heard  of.  It  is  much  to  know  that  poetry  has  been 
written  this  very  day,  under  this  very  roof  by  your 
side.  What !  that  wonderful  spirit  has  not  expired  ! 
these  stony  moments  are  still  sparkling  and  ani 
mated  !  I  had  fancied  that  the  oracles  were  all  si 
lent,  and  nature  had  spent  her  fires,  and  behold  !  all 
night,  from  every  pore,  these  fine  auroras  have  been 
streaming.  Every  one  has  some  interest  in  the  ad 
vent  of  the  poet,  and  no  one  knows  how  much  it 
may  concern  him.  We  know  that  the  secret  of  the 
world  is  profound,  but  who  or  what  shall  be  our  in 
terpreter,  we  know  not.  A  mountain  ramble,  a  new 
style  of  face,  a  new  person,  may  put  the  key  into 
our  hands.  Of  course,  the  value  of  genius  to  us  is 
in  the  veracity  of  its  report.  Talent  may  frolic  and 
juggle ;  genius  realizes  and  adds.  Mankind,  in 
good  earnest,  have  availed  so  far  in  understanding 
themselves  and  their  work,  that  the  foremost  watch 
man  on  the  peak  announces  his  news.  It  is  the 
truest  word  ever  spoken,  and  the  phrase  will  be  the 
fittest,  most  musical,  and  the  unerring  voice  of  the 
world  for  that  time. 


THE  POET.  13 

All  that  we  call  sacred  history  attests  that  the 
birth  of  a  poet  is  the  principal  event  in  chronology. 
Man,  never  so  often  deceived,  still  watches  for  the 
arrival  of  a  brother  who  can  hold  him  steady  to  a 
truth,  until  he  has  made  it  his  own.  With  what 
joy  I  begin  to  read  a  poem,  which  I  confide  in  as 
an  inspiration  !  And  now  my  chains  are  to  be 
broken ;  I  shall  mount  above  these  clouds  and 
opaque  airs  in  which  I  live, — opaque,  though  they 
seem  transparent, — and  from  the  heaven  of  truth  I 
shall  see  and  comprehend  my  relations.  That  will 
reconcile  me  to  life,  and  renovate  nature,  to  see  tri 
fles  animated  by  a  tendency,  and  to  know  what  I  am 
doing.  Life  will  no  more  be  a  noise  ;  now  I  shall 
see  men  and  women,  arid  know  the  signs  by  which 
they  may  be  discerned  from  fools  and  satans.  This 
day  shall  be  better  than  my  birth-day  :  then  I  be 
came  an  animal :  now  I  am  invited  into  the  science 
of  the  real.  Such  is  the  hope,  but  the  fruition  is 
postponed.  Oftener  it  falls,  that  this  winged  man, 
who  will  carry  me  into  the  heaven,  whirls  me  into 
the  clouds,  then  leaps  and  frisks  about  with  me  from 
cloud  to  cloud,  still  affirming  that  he  is  bound  heav 
enward  ;  and  I,  being  myself  a  novice,  and  slow  in 
perceiving  that  he  does  not  know  the  way  into  the 
heavens,  and  is  merely  bent  that  I  should  admire 
his  skill  to  rise,  like  a  fowl  or  a  flying  fish,  a  little 
way  from  the  ground  or  the  water ;  but  the  all-pierc 
ing,  all-feeding,  and  ocular  air  of  heaven,  that  man 
shall  never  inhabit.  I  tumble  down  again  soon  into 


14  THE  POET. 

my  old  nooks,  and  lead  the  life  of  exaggerations  as 
before,  and  have  lost  my  faith  in  the  possibility  of 
any  guide  who  can  lead  me  thither  where  I  would  be. 

But  leaving  these  victims  of  vanity,  let  us,  with 
new  hope,  observe  how  nature,  by  worthier  im 
pulses,  has  ensured  the  poet's  fidelity  to  his  office 
of  announcement  and  affirming,  namely,  by  the 
beauty  of  things,  which  becomes  a  new,  and  higher 
beauty,  when  expressed.  Nature  offers  all  her 
creatures  to  him  as  a  picture-language.  Being  used 
as  a  type,  a  second  wonderful  value  appears  in  the 
object,  far  better  than  its  old  value,  as  the  carpen 
ter's  stretched  cord,  if  you  hold  your  ear  close 
enough,  is  musical  in  the  breeze. 

"Things  more  excellent  than  every  image," 
says  Jamblichus,  "  are  expressed  through  images." 
Things  admit  of  being  used  as  symbols,  because 
nature  is  a  symbol,  in  the  whole,  and  in  every  part. 
Every  line  we  can  draw  in  the  sand,  has  expres 
sion  ;  and  there  is  no  body  without  its  spirit  of 
genius.  All  form  is  an  effect  of  character  ;  all 
condition,  of  the  quality  of  the  life ;  all  harmony, 
of  health ;  (and  for  this  reason,  a  perception  of 
beauty  should  be  sympathetic,  or  proper  only  to  the 
good).  The  beautiful  rests  on  the  foundations  of 
the  necessary.  The  soul  makes  the  body,  as  the 
wise  Spenser  teaches : — 

"  So  every  spirit,  as  it  is  most  pure, 
And  hath  in  it  the  more  of  heavenly  light, 
So  it  the  fairer  body  doth  procure 


THE  POET.  15 

To  habit  in,  and  it  more  fairly  (light, 
With  cheerful  grace  and  amiable  sight. 
For,  of  the  soul,  the  body  form  doth  take, 
For  soul  is  form,  and  doth  the  body  make." 

Here  we  find  ourselves,  suddenly,  not  in  a  critical 
speculation^  but  in  a  holy  place,  and  should  go  very 
warily  and  reverently.  We  stand  before  the  secret 
of  the  world,  there  where  Being  passes  into  Ap 
pearance,  and  Unity  into  Yariety. 

The  Universe  is  the  externization  of  the  soul. 
Wherever  the  life  is,  that  bursts  into  appearance 
around  it.  Our  science  is  sensual,  and  therefore 
superficial.  The  earth,  and  the  heavenly  bodies, 
physics,  and  chemistry,  we  sensually  treat,  as  if 
they  were  self -existent ;  but  these  are  the  retinue 
of  that  Being  we  have.  "  The  mighty  heaven," 
said  Proclus,  "  exhibits,  in  its  transfigurations,  clear 
images  of  the  splendor  of  intellectual  perceptions ; 
being  moved  in  conjunction  with  the  unapparent 
periods  of  intellectual  natures."  Therefore,  science 
always  goes  abreast  with  the  just  elevation  of  the 
man,  keeping  step  with  religion  and  metaphysics ; 
or,  the  state  of  science  is  an  index  of  our  self -knowl 
edge.  Since  everything  in  nature  answers  to  a 
moral  power,  if  any  phenomenon  remains  brute  and 
dark,  it  is  that  the  corresponding  faculty  in  the  ob 
server  is  not  yet  active. 

No  wonder,  then,  if  these  waters  be  so  deep,  that 
we  hover  over  them  with  a  religious  regard.  The 
beauty  of  the  fable  proves  the  importance  of  the 


16  THE  POET. 

sense ;  to  the  poet,  and  to  all  others ;  or  if  you 
please,  every  man  is  so  far  a  poet  as  to  be  suscepti 
ble  of  these  enchantments  of  nature  :  for  all  men 
have  the  thoughts  whereof  the  universe  is  the  cele 
bration.  I  find  that  the  fascination  resides  in  the 
symbol.  Who  loves  nature  ?  Who  does  not  ?  Is 
it  only  poets,  and  men  of  leisure  and  cultivation, 
who  live  with  her  ?  No  ;  but  also  hunters,  farm 
ers,  grooms,  and  butchers,  though  they  express 
their  affection  in  their  choice  of  life,  and  not  in 
their  choice  of  words.  The  writer  wonders  what 
the  coachman  or  the  hunter  values  in  riding,  in 
horses,  and  dogs.  It  is  not  superficial  qualities. 
When  you  talk  with  him,  he  holds  these  at  as 
slight  a  rate  as  you.  His  worship  is  sympathetic  ; 
he  lias.no  definitions,  but  he  is  commanded  in  nat 
ure,  by  the  living  power  which  he  feels  to  be  there 
present.  No  imitation,  or  playing  of  these  things, 
would  content  him ;  he  loves  the  earnest  of  the 
northwind,  of  rain,  of  stone,  and  wood,  and  iron. 
A  beauty  not  explicable,  is  dearer  than  a  beauty 
which  we  can  see  to  the  end  of.  It  is  nature  the 
symbol,  nature  certifying  the  supernatural,  body 
overflowed  by  life,  which  he  worships,  with  coarse, 
but  sincere  rites. 

The  inwardness  and  mystery  of  this  attachment, 
drives  men  of  every  class  to  the  use  of  emblems. 
The  schools  of  poets,  and  philosophers,  are  not  more 
intoxicated  with  their  symbols,  than  the  populace 
with  theirs.  In  our  political  parties,  compute  the. 


THE  POET.  17 

power  of  badges  and  emblems.  See  the  great  ball 
which  they  roll  from  Baltimore  to  Bunker  Hill! 
In  the  political  processions,  Lowell  goes  in  a  loom, 
and  Lynn  in  a  shoe,  and  Salem  in  a  ship.  Witness 
the  cider-barrel,  the  log  cabin,  the  hickory-stick,  the 
palmetto,  and  all  the  cognizances  of  party.  See 
the  power  of  national  emblems.  Some  stars,  lilies, 
leopards,  a  crescent,  a  lion,  an  eagle,  or  other  fig 
ure,  which  came  into  credit  God  knows  how,  on 
an  old  rag  of  bunting,  blowing  in  the  wind,  on  a 
fort,  at  the  ends  of  the  earth,  shall  make  the  blood 
tingle  under  the  rudest,  or  the  most  conventional 
exterior.  The  people  fancy  they  hate  poetry,  and 
they  are  all  poets  and  mystics ! 

Beyond  this  universality  of  the  symbolic  lan 
guage,  we  are  apprised  of  the  divineness  of  this  su 
perior  use  of  things,  whereby  the  world  is  a  temple, 
whose  walls  are  covered  with  emblems,  pictures, 
and  commandments  of  the  Deity,  in  this,  that  there 
is  no  fact  in  nature  which  does  not  carry  the  whole 
sense  of  nature  ;  and  the  distinctions  which  we 
make  in  events,  and  in  affairs,  of  low  and  high, 
honest  and  base,  disappear  when  nature  is  used  as 
a  symbol.  Thought  makes  everything  fit  for  use. 
The  vocabulary  of  an  omniscient  man  would  em 
brace  words  and  images  excluded  from  polite  con 
versation.  What  would  be  base,  or  even  obscene, 
to  the  obscene,  becomes  illustrious,  spoken  in  a  new 
connexion  of  thought.  The  piety  of  the  Hebrew 
prophets  purges  their  grossness.  The  circumcision 


18  THE  POET. 

is  an  example  of  the  power  of  poetry  to  raise  the 
low  and  offensive.  Small  and  mean  things  serve  as 
well  as  great  symbols.  The  meaner  the  type  by 
which  a  law  is  expressed,  the  more  pungent  it  is, 
and  the  more  lasting  in  the  memories  of  men  :  just 
as  we  choose  the  smallest  box,  or  case,  in  which  any 
needful  utensil  can  be  carried.  Bare  lists  of  words 
are  found  suggestive,  to  an  imaginative  and  excited 
mind ;  as  it  is  related  of  Lord  Chatham,  that  he 
was  accustomed  to  read  in  Bailey's  Dictionary,  when 
he  was  preparing  to  speak  in  Parliament.  The 
poorest  experience  is  rich  enough  for  all  the  pur 
poses  of  expressing  thought.  Why  covet  a  knowl 
edge  of  new  facts  ?  Day  and  night,  house  and 
garden,  a  few  books,  a  few  actions,  serve  us  as  well 
as  would  all  trades  and  all  spectacles.  We  are  far 
from  having  exhausted  the  significance  of  the  few 
symbols  we  use.  We  can  come  to  use  them  yet 
with  a  terrible  simplicity.  It  does  not  need  that  a 
poem  should  be  Jong.  Every  word  was  once  a  poem. 
Every  new  relation  is  a  new  word.  Also,  we  use 
defects  and  deformities  to  a  sacred  purpose,  so  ex 
pressing  our  sense  that  the  evils  of  the  world  are 
such  only  to  the  evil  eye.  In  the  old  mythology, 
mythologists  observe,  defects  are  ascribed  to  divine 
natures,  as  lameness  to  Yulcan,  blindness  to  Cupid, 
and  the  like,  to  signify  exuberances. 

For,  as  it  is  dislocation  and  detachment  from  the 
life  of  God,  that  makes  things  ugly,  the  poet,  who 
re-attaches  things  to  nature  and  the  Whole, — re- 


THE  POET.  19 

attaching  even  artificial  things  and  violations  of 
nature,  to  nature,  by  a  deeper  insight — disposes  very 
easily  of  the  most  disagreeable  facts.  Readers  of 
poetry  see  the  factory- village,  and  the  railway,  and 
fancy  that  the  poetry  of  the  landscape  is  broken  up 
by  these ;  for  these  works  of  art  are  not  yet  conse 
crated  in  their  readings ;  but  the  poet  sees  them 
fall  within  the  great  Order  not  less  than  the  bee 
hive,  or  the  spider's  geometrical  web.  Nature 
adopts  them  very  fast  into  her  vital  circles,  and 
the  gliding  train  of  cars  she  loves  like  her  own. 
Besides,  in  a  centred  mind,  it  signifies  nothing  how 
many  mechanical  inventions  you  exhibit.  Though 
you  add  millions,  and  never  so  surprising,  the  fact 
of  mechanics  has  not  gained  a  grain's  weight.  The 
spiritual  fact  remains  unalterable,  by  many  or  by 
few  particulars  ;  as  no  mountain  is  of  any  appreci 
able  height  to  break  the  curve  of  the  sphere.  A 
shrewd  country-boy  goes  to  the  city  for  the  first 
time,  and  the  complacent  citizen  is  not  satisfied 
with  his  little  wonder.  It  is  not  that  he  does  not 
see  all  the  fine  houses,  and  know  that  he  never  saw 
such  before,  but  he  disposes  of  them  as  easily  as 
the  poet  finds  place  for  the  railway.  The  chief 
value  of  the  new  fact,  is  to  enhance  the  great  and 
constant  fact  of  Life,  which  can  dwarf  any  and 
every  circumstance,  and  to  which  the  belt  of  wam 
pum,  and  the  commerce  of  America,  are  alike. 

The  world  being  thus  put  under   the  mind  for 
verb  and  noun,  the  poet  is  he  who  can  articulate  it. 


20  HE  POET. 

For,  though  life  ii,  great,  and  fascinates,  and  ab 
sorbs, — and  though  all  men  are  intelligent  of  the 
symbols  through  which  it  is  named, — yet  they  can 
not  originally  use  them.  We  are  symbols,  and  in 
habit  symbols ;  workman,  work,  and  tools,  words 
and  things,  birth  and  death,  all  are  emblems ;  but 
we  sympathize  with  the  symbols,  and,  being  infatu 
ated  with  the  economical  uses  of  things,  we  do  not 
know  that  they  are  thoughts.  The  poet,  by  an  ul 
terior  intellectual  perception,  gives  them  a  power 
which  makes  their  old  use  forgotten,  and  puts  eyes, 
and  a  tongue  into  every  dumb  and  inanimate  object. 
He  perceives  the  independence  of  the  thought  on 
the  symbol,  the  stability  of  the  thought,  the  acci- 
dency  and  fugacity  of  the  symbol.  As  the  eyes  of 
Lyncseus  were  said  to  see  through  the  earth,  so  the 
poet  turns  the  world  to  glass,  and  shows  us  all  things 
in  their  right  series  and  procession.  For,  through 
that  better  perception,  he  stands  one  step  nearer  to 
things,  and  sees  the  flowing  or  metamorphosis ;  per 
ceives  that  thought  is  multiform ;  that  within  the 
form  of  every  creature  is  a  force  impelling  it  to  as 
cend  into  a  higher  form  ;  and,  following  with  his 
eyes  the  life,  uses  the  forms  which  express  that 
life,  arid  so  his  speech  flows  with  the  flowing  of  nat 
ure.  All  the  facts  of  the  animal  economy,  sex, 
nutriment,  gestation,  birth,  growth,  are  symbols  of 
the  passage  of  the  world  into  the  soul  of  man,  to 
suffer  there  a  change,  and  reappear  a  new  and  higher 
fact.  lie  uses  forms  according  to  the  life,  and  not 


THE  POET.  21 

according  to  the  form.  This  is  true  science.  The 
poet  alone  knows  astronomy,  chemistry,  vegetation, 
and  animation,  for  he  does  not  stop  at  these  facts, 
but  employs  them  as  signs.  He  knows  why  the 
plain,  or  meadow  of  space,  was  strown  with  these 
flowers  we  call  suns,  and  moons,  and  stars ;  why  the 
great  deep  is  adorned  with  animals,  with  men,  and 
gods;  for,  in  every  word  he  speaks  he  rides  on 
them  as  the  horses  of  thought. 

By  virtue  of  this  science  the  poet  is  the  Namer, 
or  Language-maker,  naming  things  sometimes  after 
their  appearance,  sometimes  after  their  essence,  and 
giving  to  every  one  its  own  name  and  not  another's, 
thereby  rejoicing  the  intellect,  which  delights  in  de 
tachment  or  boundary.  The  poets  made  all  the 
words,  and  therefore  language  is  the  archives  of 
history,  and,  if  we  must  say  it,  a  sort  of  tomb  of  the 
muses.  For,  though  the  origin  of  most  of  our  words 
is  forgotten,  each  word  was  at  first  a  stroke  of 
genius,  and  obtained  currency,  because  for  the  mo 
ment  it  symbolized  the  world  to  the  first  speaker 
and  to  the  hearer.  The  etymologist  finds  the  dead 
est  word  to  have  been  once  a  brilliant  picture. 
Language  is  fossil  poetry.  As  the  limestone  of  the 
continent  consists  of  infinite  masses  of  the  shells  of 
animalcules,  so  language  is  made  up  of  images,  or 
tropes,  which  now,  in  their  secondary  use,  have  long 
ceased  to  remind  us  of  their  poetic  origin.  But  the 
poet  names  the  thing  because  he  sees  it,  or  comes 
one  step  neare»*  to  it  than  any  other.  This  expres- 


22  THE  POET, 

sion  or  naming,  is  not  art,  but  a  second  nature, 
grown  out  of  the  first,  as  a  leaf  out  of  a  tree.  What 
we  call  nature,  is  a  certain  self -regulated  motion,  or 
change ;  and  nature  does  all  things  by  her  own 
hands,  and  does  not  leave  another  to  baptize  her, 
but  baptizes  herself  ;  and  this  through  the  metamor 
phosis  again.  I  remember  that  a  certain  poet  des 
cribed  it  to  me  thus  : 

Genius  is  the  activity  which  repairs  the  decays  of 
things,  whether  wholly  or  partly  of  a  material  and 
finite  kind.  Nature,  through  all  her  kingdoms,  in 
sures  herself.  Nobody  cares  for  planting  the  poor 
fungus :  so  she  shakes  down  from  the  gills  of  one 
agaric  countless  spores,  any  one  of  which,  being 
preserved,  transmits  new  billions  of  spores  to-mor 
row  or  next  day.  The  new  agaric  of  this  hour  has 
a  chance  which  the  old  one  had  not.  This  atom  of 
seed  is  thrown  into  a  new  place,  not  subject  to  the 
accidents  which  destroyed  its  parent  two  rods  off. 
She  makes  a  man  ;  and  having  brought  him  to  ripe 
age,  she  will  no  longer  run  the  risk  of  losing  this 
wonder  at  a  blow,  but  she  detaches  from  him  a  new 
self,  that  the  kind  may  be  safe  from  accidents  to 
which  the  individual  is  exposed.  So  when  the  soul 
of  the  poet  has  come  to  ripeness  of  thought  she  de 
taches  and  sends  away  from  it  its  poems  or  songs, — 
a  fearless,  sleepless,  deathless  progeny,  which  is  not 
exposed  to  the  accidents  of  the  weary  kingdom  of 
time  :  a  fearless,  vivacious  offspring,  clad  with  wings 


THE  POET.  23 

(such  was  the  virtue  of  the  soul  out  of  which  they 
came),  which  carry  them  fast  and  far,  and  infix  them 
irrecoverably  into  the  hearts  of  men.  These  wings 
are  the  beauty  of  the  poet's  soul.  The  songs,  thus 
flying  immortal  from  their  mortal  parent,  are  pur 
sued  by  clamorous  flights  of  censures,  which  swarm 
in  far  greater  numbers,  and  threaten  to  devour 
them  ;  but  these  last  are  not  winged.  At  the  end 
of  a  very  short  leap  they  fall  plump  down,  and  rot, 
having  received  from  the  souls  out  of  which  they 
came  no  beautiful  wings.  But  the  melodies  of  the 
poet  ascend,  and  leap,  and  pierce  into  the  deeps  of 
infinite  time. 

So  far  the  bard  taught  me,  using  his  freer  speech. 
But  nature  has  a  higher  end,  in  the  production  of 
new  individuals,  than  security,  namely,  ascension,  or, 
the  passage  of  the  soul  into  higher  forms.  I  knew, 
in  my  younger  days,  the  sculptor  who  made  the 
statue  of  the  youth  which  stands  in  the  public  gar 
den.  He  was,  as  I  remember,  unable  to  tell  di 
rectly,  what  made  him  happy,  or  unhappy,  but  by 
wonderful  indirections  he  could  tell.  He  rose  one 
day,  according  to  his  habit,  before  the  dawn,  and  saw 
the  morning  break,  grand  as  the  eternity  out  of 
which  it  came,  and,  for  many  days  after,  he  strove 
to  express  this  tranquillity,  and,  lo !  his  chisel  had 
fashioned  out  of  marble  the  form  of  a  beautiful 
youth,  Phosphorus,  whose  aspect  is  such,  that,  it  is 
said,  all  persons  who  look  on  it  become  silent.  The 


24:  THE  POKT. 

poet  also  resigns  himself  to  his  mood,  and  that 
thought  which  agitated  him  is  expressed,  but  alter 
idem  in  a  manner  totally  new.  The  expression  is 
organic,  or,  the  new  type  which  things  themselves 
take  when  liberated.  As,  in  the  sun,  objects  paint 
their  images  on  the  retina  of  the  eye,  so  they,  shar 
ing  the  aspiration  of  the  whole  universe,  tend  to 
paint  a  far  more  delicate  copy  of  their  essence  in 
his  mind.  Like  the  metamorphosis  of  things  into 
higher  organic  forms,  is  their  change  into  melodies. 
Over  everything  stands  its  daemon,  or  soul,  and,  as 
the  form  of  the  thing  is  reflected  by  the  eye,  so  the 
soul  of  the  thing  is  reflected  by  a  melody.  The 
sea,  the  mountain-ridge,  Niagara,  and  every  flower 
bed,  pre-exist,  or  super-exist,  in  pre-cantations, 
which  sail  like  odors  in  the  air,  and  when  any  man 
goes  by  with  an  ear  sufficiently  fine,  he  overhears 
them,  and  endeavors  to  write  down  the  notes,  with 
out  diluting  or  depraving  them.  And  herein  is  the 
legitimation  of  criticism,  in  the  mind's  faith,  that 
the  poems  are  a  corrupt  version  of  some  text  in  nat 
ure,  with  which  they  ought  to  be  made  to  tally.  A 
rhyme  in  one  of  our  sonnets  should  not  be  less 
pleasing  than  the  iterated  nodes  of  a  sea-shell,  or 
the  resembling  difference  of  a  group  of  flowers. 
The  pairing  of  the  birds  is  an  idyl,  not  tedious  as 
our  idyls  are;  a  tempest  is  a  rough  ode.  without 
falsehood  or  rant:  a  summer,  with  its  harvest  sown, 
reaped,  and  stored,  is  an  epic  song,  subordinating 
how  many  admirably  executed  parts.  "Why  should 


THE  POET.  25 

not  the  symmetry  and  truth  that  modulate  these, 
glide  into  our  spirits,  and  we  participate  the  inven 
tion  of  nature  ? 

This  insight,  which  expresses  itself  by  what  is 
called  Imagination,  is  a  very  high  sort  of  seeing, 
which  does  not  come  by  study,  but  by  the  intellect 
being  where  and  what  it  sees,  by  sharing  the  path, 
or  circuit  of  things  through  forms,  and  so  making 
them  translucid  to  others.  The  path  of  things  is 
silent.  Will  they  suffer  a  speaker  to  go  with  them? 
A  spy  they  will  not  suffer ;  a  lover,  a  poet,  is  the 
transcendency  of  their  own  nature, — him  they  will 
suffer.  The  condition  of  true  naming,  on  the  poet's 
part,  is  his  resigning  himself  to  the  divine  aura 
which  breathes  through  forms,  and  accompanying 
that. 

It  is  a  secret  which  every  intellectual  man  quickly 
learns,  that,  beyond  the  energy  of  his  possessed  and 
conscious  intellect,  he  is  capable  of  a  new  energy 
(as  of  an  intellect  doubled  on  itself),  by  abandon 
ment  to  the  nature  of  things  ;  that,  beside  his  pri 
vacy  of  power  as  an  individual  man,  there  is  a 
great  public  power,  on  which  he  can  draw,  by  un 
locking,  at  all  risks,  his  human  doors,  and  suffering 
the  ethereal  tides  to  roll  and  circulate  through  him  : 
then  he  is  caught  up  into  the  life  of  the  Universe, 
his  speech  is  thunder,  his  thought  is  law,  and  his 
words  are  universally  intelligible  as  the  plants  and 
animals.  The  poet  knows  that  he  speaks  adequate 
ly,  then,  only  when  he  speaks  somewhat  wildly,  or, 


26  THE  POET. 

"  with  the  flower  of  the  mind ; "  not  with  the  in 
tellect,  used  as  an  organ,  but  with  the  intellect  re 
leased  from  all  service,  and  suffered  to  take  its  di 
rection  from  its  celestial  life;  or,  as  the  ancients 
were  wont  to  express  themselves,  not  with  intellect 
alone,  but  with  the  intellect  inebriated  by  nectar. 
As  the  traveller  who  has  lost  his  way,  throws  his 
reins  on  his  horse's  neck,  and  trusts  to  the  instinct 
of  the  animal  to  find  his  road,  so  must  we  do  with 
the  divine  animal  who  carries  us  through  this 
world.  For  if  in  any  manner  we  can  stimulate  this 
instinct,  new  passages  are  opened  for  us  into  nat 
ure,  the  mind  flows  into  and  through  things  hardest 
and  highest,  and  the  metamorphosis  is  possible. 

This  is  the  reason  why  bards  love  wine,  mead, 
narcotics,  coffee,  tea,  opium,  the  fumes  of  sandal- 
wood  and  tobacco,  or  whatever  other  species  of  ani 
mal  exhilaration.  All  men  avail  themselves  of  such 
means  as  they  can,  to  add  this  extraordinary  power 
to  their  normal  powers  ;  and  to  this  end  they  prize 
conversation,  music,  pictures,  sculpture,  dancing, 
theatres,  travelling,  war,  mobs,  fires,  gaming,  poli 
tics,  or  love,  or  science,  or  animal  intoxication, 
which  are  several  coarser  or  finer  quasi-meclisuucal 
substitutes  for  the  true  nectar,  which  is  the  ravish 
ment  of  the  intellect  by  coming  nearer  to  the  fact. 
These  are  auxiliaries  to  the  centrifugal  tendency  of 
a  man,  to  his  passage  out  into  free  space,  and  they 
help  him  to  escape  the  custody  of  that  body  in 
which  he  is  pent  up,  and  of  that  jail-yard  of  indi- 


THE  POET.  2? 

vidual  relations  in  which  he  is  enclosed.  Hence  a 
great  number  of  such  as  were  professionally  ex- 
pressors  of  Beauty,  as  painters,  poets,  musicians, 
and  actors,  have  been  more  than  others  wont  to  lead 
a  life  of  pleasure  and  indulgence  ;  all  but  the  few 
who  received  the  true  nectar ;  and,  as  it  was  a 
spurious  mode  of  obtaining  freedom,  an  emancipa 
tion  not  into  the  heavens,  but  into  the  freedom  of 
baser  places,  they  were  punished  for  that  advan 
tage  they  won,  by  a  dissipation  and  deterioration. 
But  never  can  any  advantage  be  taken  of  nature  by 
a  trick.  The  spirit  of  the  world,  the  great  calm 
presence  of  the  creator,  comes  not  forth  to  the  sor 
ceries  of  opium  or  of  wine.  The  sublime  vision 
comes  to  the  pure  and  simple  soul  in  a  clean  and 
chaste  body.  That  is  not  an  inspiration  which  we 
owe  to  narcotics,  but  some  counterfeit  excitement 
and  fury.  Milton  says,  that  the  lyric  poet  may 
drink  wine  and  live  generously,  but  the  epic  poet, 
he  who  shall  sing  of  the  gods,  and  their  descent 
unto  men,  must  drink  water  out  of  a  wooden  bowl. 
For  poetry  is  not  *  Devil's  wine,'  but  God's  wine. 
It  is  with  this  as  it  is  with  toys.  We  fill  the  hands 
and  nurseries  of  our  children  with  all  manner 
of  dolls,  drums,  and  horses,  withdrawing  their  eyes 
from  the  plain  face  and  sufficing  objects  of  nature, 
the  sun,  and  moon,  the  animals,  the  water,  and 
stones,  which  should  be  their  toys.  So  the  poet's 
habit  of  living  should  be  set  on  a  key  so  low  and 
plain,  that  the  common  influences  should  delight 


28  Tim  POET. 


him.  His  cheerfulness  should  be  the  gift  of  the 
sunlight  ;  the  air  should  suffice  for  his  inspiration, 
and  he  should  be  tipsy  with  water.  That  spirit 
which  suffices  quiet  hearts,  which  seems  to  come 
forth  to  such  from  every  dry  knoll  of  sere  grass, 
from  every  pine-stump,  and  half-imbedded  stone, 
on  which  the  dull  March  sun  shines,  comes  forth  to 
the  poor  and  hungry,  and  such  as  are  of  simple 
taste.  If  thou  fill  thy  brain  with  Boston  and  New 
York,  with  fashion  and  covetousness,  and  wilt 
stimulate  thy  jaded  senses  with  wine  and  French 
coffee,  thou  shalt  find  no  radiance  of  wisdom  in  the 
lonely  waste  of  the  pinewoods. 

If  the  imagination  intoxicates  the  poet,  it  is  not 
inactive  in  other  men.  The  metamorphosis  excites 
in  the  beholder  an  emotion  of  joy. 

The  use  of  symbols  has  a  certain  power  of  eman 
cipation  and  exhilaration  for  all  men.  We  seem  to 
be  touched  by  a  wand,  which  makes  us  dance  and 
run  about  happily,  like  children.  We  are  like  per 
sons  who  come  out  of  a  cave  or  cellar  into  the  open 
air.  This  is  the  effect  on  us  of  tropes,  fables,  ora 
cles,  and  all  poetic  forms.  Poets  are  thus  liberat 
ing  gods.  Men  have  really  got  a  new  sense,  and 
found  within  their  world,  another  world  or  nest  of 
worlds  ;  for  the  metamorphosis  once  seen,  we  di 
vine  that  it  does  not  stop.  I  will  not  now  consider 
how  much  this  makes  the  charm  of  algebra  and  the 
mathematics,  which  also  have  their  tropes,  but  it  is 
felt  in  every  definition  ;  as,  when  Aristotle  defines 


THE  POET.  29 

space  to  be  an  immovable  vessel,  in  which  things 
are  contained  ; — or,  when  Plato  defines  a  line  to  be 
a  flowing  point;  or,  figure  to  be  a  bound  of  solid  ; 
and  many  the  like.  What  a  joyful  sense  of  free 
dom  we  have,  when  Vitruvius  announces  the  old 
opinion  of  artists,  that  no  architect  can  build  any 
house  well,  who  does  not  know  something  of  anat 
omy.  When  Socrates,  in  Charmides,  tells  us  that 
the  soul  is  cured  of  its  maladies  by  certain  incanta 
tions,  and  that  these  incantations  are  beautiful  rea 
sons,  from  which  temperance  is  generated  in  souls ; 
when  Plato  calls  the  world  an  animal ;  and  Timseus 
affirms  that  the  plants  also  are  animals ;  or  affirms 
a  man  to  be  a  heavenly  tree,  growing  with  his  root, 
which  is  his  head,  upward ;  and,  as  George  Chap 
man,  following  him,  writes, — 

"So  in  our  tree  of  man,  whose  nervie  root 
Springs  in  his  top  ;  " 

when  Orpheus  speaks  of  hoariness  as  "  that  white 
flower  which  marks  extreme  old  age  ;  "  when  Pro- 
clus  calls  the  universe  the  statue  of  the  intellect ; 
when  Chaucer,  in  his  praise  of  '  Gentilesse,'  com 
pares  good  blood  in  mean  condition  to  fire,  which, 
though  carried  to  the  darkest  house  betwixt  this 
and  the  mount  of  Caucasus,  will  yet  hold  its  nat 
ural  office,  and  burn  as  bright  as  if  twenty  thousand 
men  did  it  behold  ;  when  John  saw,  in  the  apoc 
alypse,  the  ruin  of  the  world  through  evil,  and  the 
stars  fall  from  heaven,  as  the  figtree  casteth  her 


30  THE  POET. 

untimely  fruit ;  when  ^Esop  reports  the  whole  cata- 
logue  of  common  daily  relations  through  the  mas 
querade  of  birds  and  beasts ; — we  take  the  cheerful 
hint  of  the  immortality  of  our  essence,  and  its  ver 
satile  habit  and  escapes,  as  when  the  gypsies  say, 
"  it  is  in  vain  to  hang  them,  they  cannot  die." 

The  poets  are  thus  liberating  gods.  The  ancient 
British  bards  had  for  the  title  of  their  order,  "  Those 
who  are  free  throughout  the  world."  They  are 
free,  and  they  make  free.  An  imaginative  book 
renders  us  much  more  service  at  first,  by  stimulat 
ing  us  through  its  tropes,  than  afterward,  when  we 
arrive  at  the  precise  sense  of  the  author.  I  think 
nothing  is  of  any  value  in  books,  excepting  the  tran 
scendental  and  extraordinary.  If  a  man  is  inflamed 
and  carried  away  by  his  thought,  to  that  degree  that 
he  forgets  the  authors  and  the  public,  and  heeds 
only  this  one  dream,  which  holds  him  like  an  in 
sanity,  let  me  read  his  paper,  and  you  may  have 
all  the  arguments  and  histories  and  criticism.  All 
the  value  which  attaches  to  Pythagoras,  Paracelsus, 
Cornelius  Agrippa,  Cardan,  Kepler,  Swedenborg, 
Schelling,  Oken,  or  any  other  who  introduces  ques 
tionable  facts  into  his  cosmogony,  as  angels,  devils, 
magic,  astrology,  palmistry,  mesmerism,  and  so  on, 
is  the  certificate  we  have  of  departure  from  routine, 
and  tlmt  here  is  a  new  witness.  That  also  is  the 
best  success  in  conversation,  the  rnagic  of  liberty  ? 
which  puts  the  world  like  a  ball,  in  our  hands.  How 
cheap  even  the  liberty  then  seems ;  how  mean  to 


THE  POET.  31 

study,  when  an  emotion  communicates  to  the  intel 
lect  the  power  to  sap  and  upheave  nature :  how 
great  the  prospective  !  nations,  times,  systems,  enter 
and  disappear  like  threads  in  tapestry  of  large  figure 
and  many  colors  ;  dream  delivers  us  to  dream,  and, 
while  the  drunkenness  lasts,  we  will  sell  our  bed, 
our  philosophy,  our  religion,  in  our  opulence. 

There  is  good  reason  why  we  should  prize  this 
liberation.  The  fate  of  the  poor  shepherd,  who, 
blinded  and  lost  in  the  snow-storm,  perishes  in  a 
drift  within  a  few  feet  of  his  cqttage  door,  is  an 
emblem  of  the  state  of  man.  On  the  brink  of  the 
waters  of  life  and  truth,  we  are  miserably  dying. 
The  inaccessibleness  of  every  thought  but  that  we 
are  in,  is  wonderful.  What  if  you  come  near  to  it, 
—you  are  as  remote,  when  you  are  nearest,  as  when 
you  are  farthest.  Every  thought  is  also  a  prison  ; 
every  heaven  is  also  a  prison.  Therefore  we  love 
the  poet,  the  inventor,  who  in  any  form,  whether  in 
an  ode,  or  in  an  action,  or  in  looks  and  behavior, 
has  yielded  us  a  new  thought.  He  unlocks  our 
chains,  and  admits  us  to  a  new  scene. 

This  emancipation  is  dear  to  all  men,  and  the 
power  to  impart  it,  as  it  must  come  from  greater 
depth  and  scope  of  thought,  is  a  measure  of  intel 
lect.  Therefore  all  books  of  the  imagination  en 
dure,  all  which  ascend  to  that  truth,  that  the  writer 
sees  nature  beneath  him,  and  uses  it  as  his  expo 
nent.  Every  verse  or  sentence,  possessing  this 
virtue,  will  take  care  of  its  own  immortality.  The 


32  THE  POET. 

religions  of  the  world  are  the  ejaculations  of  a  few 
imaginative  men. 

But  the  quality  of  the  imagination  is  to  flow,  and 
not  to  freeze.  The  poet  did  not  stop  at  the  color, 
or  the  form,  but  read  their  meaning  ;  neither  may 
he  rest  in  this  meaning ;  but  he  makes  the  same 
objects  exponents  of  his  new  thought.  Here  is  the 
difference  betwixt  the  poet  and  the  mystic,  that 
the  last  nails  a  symbol  to  one  sense,  which  was  a 
true  sense  for  a  moment,  but  soon  becomes  old  and 
false.  For  all  symbols  are  fluxional ;  all  language 
is  vehicular  and  transitive,  and  is  good,  as  ferries 
and  horses  are,  for  conveyance,  not  as  farms  and 
houses  are,  for  homestead.  Mysticism  consists  in 
the  mistake  of  an  accidental  and  individual  sym 
bol  for  an  universal  one.  The  morning- redness 
happens  to  be  the  favorite  meteor  to  the  eyes  of 
Jacob  Behmen,  and  comes  to  stand  to  him  for  truth 
and  faith  ;  and  he  believes  should  stand  for  the 
same  realities  to  every  reader.  But  the  first  reader 
prefers  as  naturally  the  symbol  of  a  mother  and 
child,  or  a  gardener  and  his  bulb,  or  a  jeweller 
polishing  a  gem.  Either  of  these,  or  of  a  myriad 
more,  are  equally  good  to  the  person  to  whom  they 
are  significant.  Only  they  must  be  held  lightly, 
and  be  very  willingly  translated  into  the  equivalent 
terms  which  others  use.  And  the  mystic  must  be 
steadily  told, — All  that  you  say  is  just  as  true  with 
out  the  tedious  use  of  that  symbol  as  with  it.  Let 
us  have  a  little  algebra,  instead  of  this  trite  rheto- 


THE  POET.  33 

ric, — universal  signs,  instead  of  these  village  sym 
bols, — and  we  shall  both  be  gaiiaers.  The  history 
of  hierarchies  seems  to  show,  that  all  religious  er 
ror  consisted  in  making  the  symbol  too  stark  and 
solid,  and,  at  last,  nothing  but  an  excess  of  the  or 
gan  of  language. 

Swedenborg,  of  all  men  in  the  recent  ages, 
stands  eminently  for  the  translator  of  nature  into 
thought.  I  do  not  know  the  man  in  history  to 
whom  things  stood  so  uniformly  for  words.  Before 
him  the  metamorphosis  continually  plays.  Every 
thing  on  which  his  eye  rests,  obeys  the  impulses  of 
moral  nature.  The  figs  become  grapes  whilst  he 
eats  them.  When  some  of  his  angels  affirmed  a 
truth,  the  laurel  twig  which  they  held  blossomed  in 
their  hands.  The  noise  which,  at  a  distance,  ap 
peared  like  gnashing  and  thumping,  on  coming 
nearer  was  found  to  be  the  voice  of  disputants. 
The  men,  in  one  of  his  visions,  seen  in  heavenly 
light,  appeared  like  dragons,  and  seemed  in  dark 
ness  :  but,  to  each  other,  they  appeared  as  men,  and, 
when  the  light  from  heaven  shone  into  their 
cabin,  they  complained  of  the  darkness,  and  were 
compelled  to  shut  the  window  that  they  might 
see. 

There  was  this  perception  in  him,  which  makes 
the  poet  or  seer,  an  object  of  awe  and  terror, 
namely,  that  the  same  man,  or  society  of  men,  may 
wear  one  aspect  to  themselves  and  their  compan 
ions,  and  a  different  aspect  to  higher  intelligences, 
3 


34:  THE  POET. 

Certain  priests,  whom  he  describes  as  conversing 
very  learnedly  together,  appeared  to  the  children, 
who  were  at  some  distance,  like  dead  horses  :  and 
many  the  like  misappearances.  And  instantly  the 
mind  inquires,  whether  these  fishes  under  the 
bridge,  yonder  oxen  in  the  pasture,  those  dogs  in 
the  yard,  are  immutably  fishes,  oxen,  and  dogs,  or 
only  so  appear  to  me,  and  perchance  to  themselves 
appear  upright  men  ;  and  whether  I  appear  as  a 
man  to  all  eyes.  The  Bramins  and  Pythagoras 
propounded  the  same  question,  and  if  any  poet  has 
witnessed  the  transformation,  he  doubtless  found 
it  in  harmony  with  various  experiences.  We  have 
all  seen  changes  as  considerable  in  wheat  and  cat 
erpillars.  He  is  the  poet,  and  shall  draw  us  with 
love  and  terror,  who  sees,  through  the  flowing  vest, 
the  firm  nature,  and  can  declare  it. 

I  look  in  vain  for  the  poet  whom  I  describe.  We 
do  not,  with  sufficient  plainness,  or  sufficient  pro 
foundness,  address  ourselves  to  life,  nor  dare  we  chant 
our  own  times  and  social  circumstance.  If  we  filled 
the  day  with  bravery,  we  should  not  shrink  from 
celebrating  it.  Time  and  nature  yield  us  many 
gifts,  but  not  yet  the  timely  man,  the  new  religion, 
the  reconciler,  whom  all  things  await.  Dante's  praise 
is,  that  he  dared  to  write  his  autobiography  in  colos 
sal  cipher,  or  into  universality.  We  have  yet  had  no 
genius  in  America,  with  tyrannous  eye,  which  knew 
the  value  of  our  incomparable  materials,  and  saw, 
in  the  barbarism  and  materialism  of  the  times,  an- 


THE  POET.  35 

other  carnival  of  the  same  gods  whose  picture  he  so 
much  admires  in  Homer  ;  then  in  the  middle  age  ; 
then  in  Calvinism.  Banks  and  tariffs,  the  newspa 
per  and  caucus,  methodism  and  unitarianism,  are 
flat  and  dull  to  dull  people,  but  rest  on  the  same 
foundations  of  wonder  as  the  town  of  Troy,  and  the 
temple  of  Delphos,  and  are  as  swiftly  passing  away. 
Our  logrolling,  our  stumps  and  their  politics,  our 
fisheries,  our  Negroes,  and  Indians,  our  boats,  and 
our  repudiations,  the  wrath  of  rogues,  and  the  pusil 
lanimity  of  honest  men,  the  northern  trade,  the 
southern  planting,  the  western  clearing,  Oregon,  and 
Texas,  are  yet  unsung.  Yet  America  is  a  poem  in 
our  eyes  ;  its  ample  geography  dazzles  the  imagi 
nation,  and  it  will  not  wait  long  for  metres.  If  I 
have  not  found  that  excellent  combination  of  gifts 
in  my  countrymen  which  I  seek,  neither  could  I  aid 
myself  to  fix  the  idea  of  the  poet  by  reading  now 
and  then  in  Chalmers's  collection  of  five  centuries 
of  English  poets.  These  are  wits,  more  than  poets, 
though  there  have  been  poets  among  them.  But 
when  we  adhere  to  the  ideal  of  the  poet,  we  have 
our  difficulties  even  with  Milton  and  Homer.  Mil 
ton  is  too  literary,  and  Homer  too  literal  and  his 
torical. 

But  I  am  not  wise  enough  for  a  national  criticism, 
and  must  use  the  old  largeness  a  little  longer,  to  dis 
charge  my  errand  from  the  muse  to  the  poet  con 
cerning  his  art. 

Art  is  the  path  of  the  creator  to  his  work.     The 


36  THE  POET. 

paths,  or  methods,  are  ideal  and  eternal,  though  few 
men  ever  see  them,  not  the  artist  himself  for  years, 
or  for  a  lifetime,  unless  he  come  into  the  conditions. 
The  painter,  the  sculptor,  the  composer,  the  epic 
rhapsodist,  the  orator,  all  partake  one  desire, 
namely,  to  express  themselves  symmetrically  and 
abundantly,  not  dwarfishly  and  fragmentarily.  They 
found  or  put  themselves  in  certain  conditions,  as, 
the  painter  and  sculptor  before  some  impressive 
human  figures ;  the  orator,  into  the  assembly  of  the 
people ;  and  the  others,  in  such  scenes  as  each  has 
found  exciting  to  his  intellect ;  and  each  presently 
feels  the  new  desire.  He  hears  a  voice,  he  sees  a 
beckoning.  Then  he  is  apprised,  with  wonder,  what 
herds  of  daemons  hem  him  in.  He  can  no  more 
rest ;  he  says,  with  the  old  painter,  "  By  God,  it  is 
in  me,  and  must  go  forth  of  me."  He  pursues  a 
beaut}7,  half  seen,  which  flies  before  him.  The  poet 
pours  out  verses  in  every  solitude.  Most  of  the 
things  he  says  are  conventional,  no  doubt  ;  but  by 
und  by  he  says  something  which  is  original  and 
beautiful.  That  charms  him.  He  would  say  noth 
ing  else  but  such  things.  In  our  way  of  talking,  we 
Bay,  '  That  is  yours,  this  is  mine  ; '  but  the  poet 
knows  well  that  it  is  not  his  ;  that  it  is  as  strange 
and  beautiful  to  him  as  to  you  ;  he  would  fain  hear 
the  like  eloquence  at  length.  Once  having  tasted 
this  immortal  ichor,  he  cannot  have  enough  of  it, 
and,  as  an  admirable  creative  power  exists  in  these 
intellections,  it  is  of  the  last  importance  that  these 


THE  POET.  37 

things  get  spoken.  "What  a  little  of  all  we  know  is 
said  !  What  drops  of  all  the  sea  of  our  science  are 
baled  up  !  and  by  what  accident  it  is  that  these  are 
exposed,  when  so  many  secrets  sleep  in  nature  ! 
Hence  the  necessity  of  speech  and  song  ;  hence  these 
throbs  and  heart-beatings  in  the  orator,  at  the  door 
of  the  assembly,  to  the  end,  namely,  that  thought 
may  be  ejaculated  as  Logos,  or  Word. 

Doubt  not,  O  poet,  but  persist.  Say,  '  It  is  in 
me,  and  shall  out.'  Stand  there,  balked  and  dumb, 
stuttering  and  stammering,  hissed  and  hooted,  stand 
and  strive,  until,  at  last,  rage  draw  out  of  thee  that 
d!r<?aw-power  which  every  night  shows  thee  is  thine 
own  ;  a  power  transcending  all  limit  and  privacy, 
and  by  virtue  of  which  a  man  is  the  conductor  of  the 
whole  river  of  electricity.  Nothing  walks,  or  creeps, 
or  grows,  or  exists,  which  must  not  in  turn  arise 
and  walk  before  him  as  exponent  of  his  meaning. 
Comes  he  to  that  power,  his  genius  is  no  longer  ex 
haustible.  All  the  creatures,  by  pairs  and  by  tribes, 
pour  into  his  mind  as  into  a  Noah's  ark,  to  come 
forth  again  to  people  a  new  world.  This  is  like  the 
stock  of  air  for  our  respiration,  or  for  the  combust 
ion  of  our  fireplace,  not  a  measure  of  gallons,  but 
the  entire  atmosphere  if  wanted.  And  therefore 
the  rich  poets,  as  Homer,  Chaucer,  Shakspeare,  and 
Raphael,  have  obviously  no  limits  to  their  works,  ex 
cept  the  limits  of  their  lifetime,  and  resemble  a 
mirror  carried  through  the  street,  ready  to  render 
an  image  of  every  created  thing. 


38  THE  POET. 

O  poet  !  a  new  nobility  is  conferred  in  groves  and 
pastures,  and  not  in  castles,  or  by  the  sword-blade, 
any  longer.  The  conditions  are  hard,  but  equal. 
Thou  shalt  leave  the  world,  and  know  the  muse 
only.  Thou  shalt  not  know  any  longer  the  times, 
customs,  graces,  politics,  or  opinions  of  men,  but 
shalt  take  all  from  the  muse.  For  the  time  of  towns 
is  tolled  from  the  world  by  funereal  chimes,  but  in 
nature  the  universal  hours  are  counted  by  succeed 
ing  tribes  of  animals  and  plants,  and  by  growth  of 
joy  on  joy.  God  wills  also  that  thou  abdicate  a 
manifold  arid  duplex  life,  and  that  thou  be  content 
that  others  speak  for  thee.  Others  shall  be  thy  gen 
tlemen,  and  shall  represent  all  courtesy  and  worldly 
life  for  thee  ;  others  shall  do  the  great  and  resound 
ing  actions  also.  Thou  shalt  lie  close  hid  with  nat 
ure,  and  canst  not  be  afforded  to  the  Capitol  or  the 
Exchange.  The  world  is  full  of  renunciations  and 
apprenticeships,  and  this  is  thine :  thou  must  pass 
for  a  fool  and  a  churl  for  a  long  season.  This  is 
the  screen  and  sheath  in  which  Pan  has  protected 
his  well-beloved  flower,  and  thou  shalt  be  known 
only  to  thine  own,  and  they  shall  console  thee  with 
tenderest  love.  And  thou  shalt  not  be  able  to  re 
hearse  the  names  of  thy  friends  in  thy  verse,  for  an 
old  shame  before  the  holy  ideal.  And  this  is  the 
reward :  that  the  ideal  shall  be  real  to  thee,  and 
the  impressions  of  the  actual  world  shall  fall  like 
summer  rain,  copious,  but  not  troublesome,  to  thy 
invulnerable  essence.  Thou  shalt  have  the  whole 


THE  POET.  39 

land  for  thy  park  and  manor,  the  sea  for  thy  bath 
and  navigation,  without  tax  and  without  envy ;  the 
woods  and  the  rivers  thou  shalt  own  ;  and  thou  shalt 
possess  that  wherein  others  are  only  tenants  and 
boarders.  Thou  true  land-lord  !  sea-lord  !  air-lord  ! 
Wherever  snow  falls,  or  water  flows,  or  birds  fly, 
wherever  day  and  night  meet  in  twilight,  wherever 
the  blue  heaven  is  huns;  bv  clouds,  or  sown  with 

O        */ 

stars,  wherever-  are  forms  with  transparent  boun 
daries,  wherever  arc  outlets  into  celestial  space, 
wherever  is  danger,  and  awe,  and  love,  there  is 
Beauty,  plenteous  as  rain,  shed  for  thee,  and  though 
thou  shouldest  walk  the  world  over,  thou  shalt  not 
be  able  to  find  a  condition  inopportune  or  ignoble. 


EXPERIENCE. 


THE  lords  of  life,  the  lords  of  life,— 
I  saw  them  pass, 
In  their  own  guise, 
Like  and  unlike, 
Portly  and  grim, 
Use  and  Surprise, 
Surface  and  Dream, 
Succession  swift,  and  spectral  Wrong, 
Temperament  without  a  tongue, 
And  the  inventor  of  the  game 
Omnipresent  without  name  ; — 
Some  to  see,  some  to  be  guessed, 
They  marched  from  east  to  west : 
Little  man,  least  of  all, 
Among  the  legs  of  his  guardians  tall, 
Walked  about  with  puzzled  look  :  — 
Him  by  the  hand  dear  nature  took ; 
Dearest  nature,  strong  and  kind, 
Whispered,  '  Darling,  never  mind  ! 
To-morrow  they  will  wear  another  face, 
The  founder  thou  !  these  are  thy  race  I ' 


WHERE  do  wo  find  ourselves  ?  In  a  series  of 
which  we  do  not  know  the  extremes,  and  believe 
that  it  lias  none.  We  wake  and  find  ourselves  on  a 
stair;  there  are  stairs  below  us,  which  we  seem  to 


4  EXPERIENCE. 

have  ascended  ;  there  are  stairs  above  us,  many  a 
one,  which  go  upward  and  out  of  sight.  But  the 
Genius  which,  according  to  the  old  belief,  stands  at 
the  door  by  which  we  enter,  and  gives  us  the  lethe 
to  drink,  that  we  may  tell  no  tales,  mixed  the  cup 
too  strongly,  and  we  cannot  shake  off  the  lethargy 
now  at  noonday.  Sleep  lingers  all  our  lifetime 
about  our  eyes,  as  night  hovers  all  day  in  the  boughs 
of  the  fir-tree.  All  things  swim  and  glitter.  Our 
life  is  not  so  much  threatened  as  our  perception. 
Ghostlike  we  glide  through  nature  and  should  not 
know  our  place  again.  Did  our  birth  fall  in  some 
fit  of  indigence  and  frugality  in  nature,  that  she  was 
so  sparing  of  her  fire  and  so  liberal  of  her  earth, 
that  it  appears  to  us  that  we  lack  the  affirmative 
principle,  and  though  we  have  health  and  reason, 
yet  we  have  no  superfluity  of  spirit  for  new  crea 
tion  ?  We  have  enough  to  live  and  bring  the  year 
about,  but  not  an  ounce  to  impart  or  to  invest.  Ah 
that  our  Genius  were  a  little  more  of  a  genius  !  We 
are  like  millers  on  the  lower  levels  of  a  stream, 
when  the  factories  above  them  have  exhausted  the 
water.  We  too  fancy  that  the  upper  people  must 
have  raised  their  dams. 

If  any  of  us  knew  what  we  were  doing  or  where 
we  are  going,  then  when  we  think  we  best  know ! 
We  do  not  know  to-day  whether  we  are  busy  or 
idle.  In  times  when  we  thought  ourselves  indolent 
we  have  afterwards  discovered,  that  much  was  ac 
complished,  and  much  was  begun  in  us.  All  our 


EXPERIENCE.  43 

davs  are  so  unprofitable  while  the}7  pass,  that  'tis 
wonderful  where  or  when  we  ever  got  anything  of 
this  which  we  call  wisdom,  poetry,  virtue.  We 
never  got  it  on  any  dated  calendar  day.  Some 
heavenly  days  must  have  been  intercalated  some 
where,  like  those  that  Hermes  won  with  dice  of  the 
Moon,  that  Osiris  might  be  born.  It  is  said,  all 
martyrdoms  looked  mean  when  they  were  suffered. 
Every  ship  is  a  romantic  object,  except  that  we  sail 
in.  Embark,  and  the  romance  quits  our  vessel, 
and  hangs  on  every  other  sail  on  the  horizon.  Our 
life  looks  trivial,  and  we  shun  to  record  it.  Men 
seem  to  have  learned  of  the  horizon  the  art  of 
perpetual  retreating  and  reference.  c  Yonder  up 
lands  are  rich  pasturage,  and  my  neighbor  has  fer 
tile  meadow,  but  my  field,'  says  the  querulous  far 
mer,  *  only  holds  the  world  together.'  I  quote 
another  man's  saying ;  unluckily,  that  other  with 
draws  himself  in  the  same  way,  and  quotes  me. 
'Tis  the  trick  of  nature  thus  to  degrade  to-day  ;  a 
good  deal  of  buzz,  and  somewhere  a  result  slipped 
magically  in.  Every  roof  is  agreeable  to  the  eye, 
until  it  is  lifted  ;  then  we  find  tragedy  and  moaning 
women,  and  hard-eyed  husbands,  and  deluges  of 
lethe,  and  the  men  ask, '  What's  the  news  ? '  as  if  the 
old  were  so  bad.  How  many  individuals  can  we 
count  in  society  ?  how  many  actions  ?  how  many 
opinions  ?  So  much  of  our  time  is  preparation,  so 
much  is  routine,  and  so  much  retrospect,  that  the 
pith  of  each  man's  genius  contracts  itself  to  a  very 


44  EXPERIENCE. 

few  hours.  The  history  of  literature — take  the  net 
result  of  Tiraboschi,  Warton,  or  Schlegel, — is  a  sum 
of  very  few  ideas,  and  of  very  few  original  tales, — 
all  the  rest  being  variation  of  these.  So  in  this 
great  society  wide  lying  around  us,  a  critical  analy 
sis  would  find  very  few  spontaneous  actions.  It  is 
almost  all  custom  and  gross  sense.  There  are  even 
few  opinions,  and  these  seem  organic  in  the  speak 
ers,  and  do  not  disturb  the  universal  necessity. 

What  opium  is  instilled  into  all  disaster!  It 
shows  formidable  as  we  approach  it,  but  there  is  at 
last  no  rough  rasping  friction,  but  the  most  slippery 
sliding  surfaces.  We  fall  soft  on  a  thought.  Ate 
Dea  is  gentle, 

u  Over  men's  heads  walking  aloft, 
With  tender  feet  treading  so  soft." 

People  give  and  bemoan  themselves,  but  it  is  not 
half  so  bad  with  them  as  they  say.  There  are 
moods  in  which  we  court  suffering,  in  the  hope  that 
here,  at  least,  we  shall  find  reality,  sharp  peaks  and 
edges  of  truth.  But  it  turns  out  to  be  scene-paint 
ing  and  counterfeit.  The  only  thing  grief  lias 
taught  me,  is  to  know  how  shallow  it  is.  That,  like 
all  the  rest,  plays  about  the  surface,  and  never  in 
troduces  me  into  the  reality,  for  contact  with  which, 
we  would  even  pay  the  costly  price  of  sons  and 
lovers.  Was  it  Boscovich  who  found  out  that  bodies 
never  come  in  contact  ?  Well,  souls  never  touch 
their  objects.  An  innavigable  sea  washes  with  si- 


EXPERIENCE.  45 

lent  waves  between  us  and  the  things  we  aim  at 
and  converse  with.  Grief  too  will  make  us  idealists. 
In  the  death  of  rny  son,  now  more  than  two  years 
ago,  I  seem  to  have  lost  a  beautiful  estate, — no 
more.  I  cannot  get  it  nearer  to  me.  If  to-morrow 
I  should  be  informed  of  the  bankruptcy  of  my  prin 
cipal  debtors,  the  loss  of  my  property  would  be  a 
great  inconvenience  to  me,  perhaps,  for  many  years  ; 
but  it  would  leave  me  as  it  found  me, — neither  bet 
ter  nor  worse.  So  is  it  with  this  calamity  :  it  does 
not  touch  me :  some  thing  which  I  fancied  was  a 

O 

part  of  me,  which  could  not  be  torn  away  without 
tearing  me,  nor  enlarged  without  enriching  me,  falls 
off  from  me,  and  leaves  no  scar.  It  was  caducous. 
I  grieve  that  grief  can  teach  me  nothing,  nor  carry 
me  one  step  into  real  nature.  The  Indian  who  was 
laid  under  a  curse,  that  the  wind  should  not  blow 
on  him,  nor  water  flow  to  him,  nor  fire  burn  him, 
is  a  type  of  us  all.  The  dearest  events  are  summer- 
rain,  and  we  the  Para  coats  that  shed  every  drop. 
Nothing  is  left  us  now  but  death.  We  look  to  that 
with  a  grim  satisfaction,  saying,  there  at  least  is 
reality  that  will  not  dodge  us. 

I  take  this  evanescence  and  lubricity  of  all  ob 
jects,  which  lets  them  slip  through  our  fingers  then 
when  we  clutch  hardest,  to  be  the  most  unhand 
some  part  of  our  condition.  Nature  does  not  like 
to  be  observed,  and  likes  that  we  should  be  her  fools 
and  playmates.  We  may  have  the  sphere  for  our 
cricket-ball,  but  not  a  berry  for  our  philosophy 


46  EXPERIENCE. 

Direct  strokes  she  never  gave  us  power  to  make ; 
all  our  blows  glance,  all  our  hits  are  accidents.  Our 
relations  to  each  other  are  oblique  and  casual. 

Dream  delivers  us  to  dream,  and  there  is  no  end 
to  illusion.  Life  is  a  train  of  moods  like  a  string 
of  beads,  and,  as  we  pass  through  them,  they  prove 
to  be  many-colored  lenses  which  paint  the  world 
their  own  hue,  and  each  shows  only  what  lies  in 
its  focus.  From  the  mountain  you  see  the  moun 
tain.  We  animate  what  we  can,  and  we  see  only 
what  we  animate.  Nature  and  books  belong  to  the 
eyes  that  see  them.  It  depends  on  the  mood  of  the 
man,  whether  he  shall  see  the  sunset  or  the  fine 
poem.  There  are  always  sunsets,  and  there  is  al 
ways  genius ;  but  only  a  few  hours  so  serene  that 
we  can  relish  nature  or  criticism.  The  more  or  less 
depends  on  structure  or  temperament.  Tempera 
ment  is  the  iron  wire  on  which  the  beads  are 
strung.  Of  what  use  is  fortune  or  talent  to  a  cold 
and  defective  nature  ?  Who  cares  what  sensibility 
or  discrimination  a  man  has  at  some  time  shown,  if 
he  falls  asleep  in  his  chair  ?  or  if  he  laugh  and  gig 
gle  ?  or  if  lie  apologize  ?  or  is  affected  with  ego 
tism  ?  or  thinks  of  his  dollar  ?  or  cannot  go  by 
food  ?  or  has  gotten  a  child  in  his  boyhood  ?  Of 
what  use  is  genius,  if  the  organ  is  too  convex  or  too 
concave,  and  cannot  find  a  focal  distance  within  the 
actual  horizon  of  human  life  ?  Of  what  use,  if  the 
brain  is  too  cold  or  too  hot,  and  the  man  does  not 
care  enough  for  results,  to  stimulate  him  to  experi- 


EXPERIENCE.  47 

ment,  and  hold  him  up  in  it  ?  or  if  the  web  is  too 
finely  woven,  too  irritable  by  pleasure  and  pain,  so 
that  life  stagnates  from  too  much  reception,  without 
due  outlet  ?  Of  what  use  to  make  heroic  vows  of 
amendment,  if  the  same  old  law-breaker  is  to  keep 
them  ?  What  cheer  can  the  religious  sentiment 

O 

yield,  when  that  is  suspected  to  be  secretly  depend 
ent  on  the  seasons  of  the  year,  and  the  state  of  the 
blood  ?  I  knew  a  witty  physician  who  found  the 
ology  in  the  biliary  duct,  and  used  to  affirm  that  if 
there  was  disease  in  the  liver,  the  man  became  a 
Calvinist,  and  if  that  organ  was  sound,  he  became 
a  Unitarian.  Very  mortifying  is  the  reluctant  ex 
perience  that  some  unfriendly  excess  or  imbecility 
neutralizes  the  promise  of  genius.  We  see  young 
men  who  owe  us  a  new  world,  so  readily  and  lavish 
ly  they  promise,  but  they  never  acquit  the  debt;  they 
die  young  and  dodge  the  account :  or  if  they  live, 
they  lose  themselves  in  the  crowd. 

Ternperamen';  also  enters  fully  into  the  system  of 
illusions,  and  emits  us  in  a  prison  of  glass  which  we 
cannot  see.  There  is  an  optical  illusion  about  every 
person  we  meet.  In  truth,  they  are  all  creatures  of 
given  temperament,  which  will  appear  in  a  given 
character,  whose  boundaries  they  will  never  pass: 
but  we  look  at  them,  they  seem  alive,  and  we  pre 
sume  uhere  is  impulse  in  them.  In  the  moment  it 
seems  impulse  ;  in  the  year,  in  the  lifetime,  it  turns 
out  to  be  a  certain  uniform  tune  which  the  re 
volving  barrel  of  the  music-box  must  play.  Met* 


a  S  EXPERIENCE. 

resist  the  conclusion  in  the  morning,  but  adopt  it  as 
the  evening  wears  on,  that  temper  prevails  over 
everything  of  time,  place  and  condition,  and  is  in 
consumable  in  the  flames  of  religion.  Some  modi 
fications  the  moral  sentiment  avails  to  impose,  but 
the  individual  texture  holds  its  dominion,  if  not  to 
bias  the  moral  judgments,  yet  to  fix  the  measure  of 
activity  and  of  enjoyment. 

I  thus  express  the  law  as  it  is  read  from  the  plat 
form  of  ordinary  life,  but  must  not  leave  it  without 
noticing  the  capital  exception.  For  temperament  is 
a  power  which  no  man  willingly  hears  any  one 
praise  but  himself.  On  the  platform  of  physics, 
we  cannot  resist  the  contracting  influences  of  so- 
called  science.  Temperament  puts  all  divinity  to 
rout.  I.  know  the  mental  proclivity  of  physicians. 
I  hear  the  chuckle  of  the  phrenologists.  Theoretic 
kidnappers  and  slave-drivers,  they  esteem  each  man 
the  victim  of  another,  who  winds  him  round  his 
finger  by  knowing  the  law  of  his  being,  and  by  such 
cheap  signboards  as  the  color  of  his  beard,  or  the 
slope  of  his  occiput,  reads  the  inventory  of  his  for 
tunes  and  character.  The  grossest  ignorance  does 
not  disgust  like  this  impudent  knowingness.  The 
physicians  say,  they  are  not  materialists  ;  but  they 
are  : — Spirit  is  matter  reduced  to  an  extreme  thin 
ness  :  O  so  thin ! — But  the  definition  of  spiritual 
should  be,  that  which  is  its  own  evidence.  What 
notions  do  they  attach  to  love  !  what  to  religion ! 
One  would  not  willingly  pronounce  these  words  in 


EXPERIENCE.  49 

their  hearing,  and  give  them  the  occasion  to  pro 
fane  them.  I  saw  a  gracious  gentleman  who  adapts 
his  conversation  to  the  form  of  the  head  of  the 
man  he  talks  with  !  I  had  fancied  that  the  value 
of  life  lay  in  its  inscrutable  possibilities  ;  in  the 
fact  that  I  never  know,  in  addressing  myself  to  a 
new  individual,  what  may  befall  me.  I  carry  the 
keys  of  my  castle  in  my  hand,  ready  to  throw  them 
at  the  feet  of  my  lord,  whenever  and  in  what  dis 
guise  soever  he  shall  appear.  I  know  he  is  in  the 
neighborhood  hidden  among  vagabonds.  Shall  I 
preclude  my  future,  by  taking  a  high  seat  and 
kindly  adapting  my  conversation  to  the  shape  of 
heads?  When  I  come  to  that,  the  doctors  shall 

buy  me  for  a  cent. '  But,  sir,  medical  history  ; 

the  report  to  the  institute  ;  the  proven  facts  ! ' — I 
distrust  the  facts  and  the  inferences.  Tempera 
ment  is  the  veto  or  limitation-power  in  the  cons 
titution,  very  justly  applied  to  restrain  an  oppo 
site  excess  in  the  constitution,  but  absurdly  offered 
as  a  bar  to  original  equity.  When  virtue  is  in 
presence,  all  subordinate  powers  sleep.  On  its  own 
level,  or  in  view  of  nature,  temperament  is  final. 
I  see  not,  if  one  be  once  caught  in  this  trap  of  so- 
called  sciences,  any  escape  for  the  man  from  the 
links  of  the  chain  of  physical  necessity.  Given  such 
an  embryo,  such  a  history  must  follow.  On  this 
platform,  one  lives  in  a  sty  of  sensualism,  and  would 
soon  come  to  suicide.  But  it  is  impossible  that  the 
creative  power  should  exclude  itself.  Into  every 
3 


50  EXPERIENCE. 

intelligence  there  is  a  door  which  is  never  closed, 
through  which  the  creator  passes.  The  intellect, 
seeker  of  absolute  truth,  or  the  heart,  lover  of 
absolute  good,  intervenes  for  our  succor,  and  at  one 
whisper  of  these  high  powers,  we  awake  from  in 
effectual  struggles  with  this  nightmare.  We  hurl 
it  into  its  own  hell,  and  cannot  again  contract 
ourselves  to  so  base  a  state. 

The  secret  of  the  illusoriness  is  in  the  necessity 
of  a  succession  of  moods  or  objects.  Gladly  we 
would  aiichor,  but  the  anchorage  is  quicksand.  This 
onward  trick  of  nature  is  too  strong  for  us  :  Pero  si 
muove.  When,  at  night,  I  look  at  the  moon  and 
stars,  I  seem  stationary,  and  they  to  hurry.  Our 
love  of  the  real  draws  us  to  permanence,  but  health 
of  body  consists  in  circulation,  and  sanity  of  mind 
in  variety  or  facility  of  association.  We  need  change 
of  objects.  Dedication  to  one  thought  is  quickly 
odious.  We  house  with  the  insane,  and  must  humor 
them ;  then  conversation  dies  out.  Once  I  took 
such  delight  in  Montaigne,  that  I  thought  I  should 
not  need  any  other  book  ;  before  that,  in  Shakspeare ; 
then  in  Plutarch  ;  then  in  Plotinus ;  at  one  time  in 
Bacon  ;  afterwards  in  Goethe  ;  even  in  Bettine  ;  but 
now  I  turn  the  pages  of  either  of  them  languidly, 
whilst  I  still  cherish  their  genius.  So  with  pict 
ures  ;  each  will  bear  an  emphasis  of  attention  once, 
which  it  cannot  retain,  though  we  fain  would  con 
tinue  to  be  pleased  in  that  manner.  How  strongly 


EXPERIENCE.  51 

I  have  felt  of  pictures,  that  when  you  have  seen  one 
well,  you  must  take  your  leave  of  it ;  you  shall  never 
see  it  again.  I  have  had  good  lessons  from  pict 
ures,  which  I  have  since  seen  without  emotion  or  re 
mark.  A  deduction  must  be  made  from  the  opin 
ion,  which  even  the  wise  express  of  a  new  book  or 
occurrence.  Their  opinion  gives  me  tidings  of  their 
mood,  and  some  vague  guess  at  the  new  fact,  but 
is  nowise  to  be  trusted  as  the  lasting  relation  be 
tween  that  intellect  and  that  thing.  The  child  asks 
"  .Mama,  why  don't  I  like  the  story  as  well  as  when 
you  told  it  me  yesterday  ?  "  Alas,  child,  it  is  even 
so  with  the  oldest  cherubim  of  knowledge.  But 
will  it  answer  thy  question  to  say,  Because  thou 
wert  born  to  a  whole,  and  this  story  is  a  particular  ? 
The  reason  of  the  pain  this  discovery  causes  us  (and 
we  make  it  late  in  respect  to  works  of  art  and  intel 
lect),  is  the  plaint  of  tragedy  which  murmurs  from 
it  in  regard  to  persons,  to  friendship  and  love. 

That  immobility  and  absence  of  elasticity  which 
we  find  in  the  arts,  we  find  with  more  pain  in  the 
artist.  There  is  no  power  of  expansion  in  men. 
Our  friends  early  appear  to  us  as  representatives  of 
certain  ideas,  which  they  never  pass  or  exceed. 
They  stand  on  the  brink  of  the  ocean  of  thought 
and  power,  but  they  never  take  the  single  step  that 
would  bring  them  there.  A  man  is  like  a  bit  of 
Labrador  spar,  which  has  no  lustre  as  you  turn  it  in 
your  hand,  until  you  come  to  a  particular  angle ; 
then  it  shows  deep  and  beautiful  colors.  There  is 


2  EXPERIENCE. 

no  adaptation  or  universal  applicability  in  men,  but 
each  has  his  special  talent,  and  the  mastery  of  suc 
cessful  men  consists  in  adroitly  keeping  themselves 
where  and  when  that  turn  shall  be  oftenest  to  be 
practised.  We  do  what  we  must,  and  call  it  by  the 
best  names  we  can,  and  would  fain  have  the  praise 
of  having  intended  the  result  which  ensues.  I  can 
not  recall  any  form  of  man  who  is  not  superfluous 
sometimes.  But  is  not  this  pitiful?  Life  is  not 
worth  the  taking,  to  do  tricks  in. 

Of  course,  it  needs  the  whole  society,  to  give  the 
symmetry  we  seek.  The  parti-colored  wheel  must 
revolve  very  fast  to  appear  white.  Something  is 
learned  too  by  conversing  with  so  much  folly  and 
defect.  In  fine,  whoever  loses,  we  are  always  of 
the  gaining  party.  Divinity  is  behind  our  failures 
and  follies  also.  The  plays  of  children  are  non 
sense,  but  very  educative  nonsense.  So  it  is  with 
the  largest  and  solemnest  things,  with  commerce, 
government,  church,  marriage,  and  so  with  the  his 
tory  of  every  man's  bread,  and  the  ways  by  which 
he  is  to  come  by  it.  Like  a  bird  which  alights  no 
where,  but  hops  perpetually  from  bough  to  bough, 
is  the  Power  which  abides  in  no  man  and  in  no 
woman,  but  for  a  moment  speaks  from  this  one,  and 
for  another  moment  from  that  one. 

But  what  help  from  these  fineries  or  pedantries? 
What  help  from  thought?  Life  is  not  dialectics. 
We,  T  think,  in  these  times,  have  had  lessons  enough 


EXPEDIENCE.  53 

of  the  futility  of  criticism.  Our  young  people  have 
thought  and  written  much  on  labor  and  reform,  and 
for  all  that  they  have  written,  neither  the  world  nor 
themselves  have  got  on  a  step.  Intellectual  tasting 
of  life  will  not  supersede  muscular  activity.  If  a 
man  should  consider  the  nicety  of  the  passage  of  a 
piece  of  bread  down  his  throat,  he  would  starve. 
At  Education-Farm  the  noblest  theory  of  life  sat  on 
the  noblest  figures  of  young  men  and  maidens,  quite 
powerless  and  melancholy.  It  would  not  rake  or 
pitch  a  ton  of  hay  ;  it  would  not  rub  down  a  horse  ; 
and  the  men  and  maidens  it  left  pale  and  hungry. 
A  political  orator  wittily  compared  our  party  prom 
ises  to  western  roads,  which  opened  stately  enough, 
with  planted  trees  on  either  side,  to  tempt  the  trav 
eller,  but  soon  became  narrow  and  narrower,  and 
ended  in  a  squirrel-track,  and  ran  up  a  tree.  So 
does  culture  with  us  ;  it  ends  in  head-ache.  Un 
speakably  sad  and  barren  does  life  look  to  those, 
who  a  few  months  ago  were  dazzled  with  the  splen 
dor  of  the  promise  of  the  times.  "  There  is  now 
no  longer  any  right  course  of  action,  nor  any  self- 
devotion  left  among  the  Iranis."  Objections  and 
criticism  we  have  had  our  fill  of.  There  are  objec 
tions  to  every  course  of  life  and  action,  and  the  prac 
tical  wisdom  infers  an  indifferency,  from  the  omni 
presence  of  objection.  The  whole  frame  of  things 
preaches  indifferency.  Do  not  craze  yourself  with 
thinking,  but  go  about  your  business  anywhere. 
Life  is  not  intellectual  or  critical,  but  sturdy.  Its 


54:  JSXFEPJKNCK. 

chief  good  is  for  well-mixed  people  who  can  enjoy 
what  they  find,  Without  question.  Nature  hates 
peeping,  and  our  mothers  speak  her  very  sense  when 
they  say,  "  Children,  eat  your  victuals,  and  say  no 
more  of  it."  To  fill  the  hour, — that  is  happiness  ; 
to  fill  the  hour,  and  leave  no  crevice  for  a  repent 
ance  or  an  approval.  AVe  live  amid  surfaces,  and 
the  true  art  of  life  is  to  skate  well  on  them.  Under 
the  oldest  mouldiest  conventions,  a  man  of  native 
force  prospers  just  as  well  as  in  the  newest  world, 
and  that  by  skill  of  handling  and  treatment.  He 
can  take  hold  anywhere.  Life  itself  is  a  mixture 
of  power  and  form,  and  will  not  bear  the  least  ex 
cess  of  either.  To  finish  the  moment,  to  find  the 
journey's  end  in  every  step  of  the  road,  to  live  the 
greatest  number  of  good  hours,  is  wisdom.  It  is 
not  the  part  of  men,  but  of  fanatics,  or  of  mathe 
maticians,  if  you  will,  to  say,  that,  the  shortness  of 
life  considered,  it  is  not  worth  caring  whether  for 
so  short  a  duration  we  were  sprawling  in  want,  or 
sitting  high.  Since  our  office  is  with  moments, 
let  us  husband  them.  Five  minutes  of  to-day  are 
worth  as  much  to  me,  as  five  minutes  in  the  next 
millennium.  Let  us  be  poised,  and  wise,  and  our 
own,  to-day.  Let  us  treat  the  men  and  woman  well : 
treat  them  as  if  they  were  real  :  perhaps  they  are. 
Men  live  in  their  fancy,  like  drunkards  wrhose  hands 
are  too  soft  and  tremulous  for  successful  labor.  It 
is  a  tempest  of  fancies,  and  the  only  ballast  I  know, 
is  a  respect  to  the  present  hour.  Without  any 


EXPERIENCE.  55 

shadow  of  doubt,  amidst  this  vertigo  of  shows  and 
politics,  I  settle  myself  ever  the  firmer  in  the  creed, 
that  we  should  not  postpone  and  refer  and  wish, 
but  do  broad  justice  where  we  are,  by  whomsoever 
we  deal  with,  accepting  our  actual  companions  and 
circumstances,  however  humble  or  odious,  as  the 
mystic  officials  to  whom  the  universe  has  delegated 
its  whole  pleasure  for  us.  If  these  are  mean  and 
malignant,  their  contentment,  which  is  the  last  vic 
tory  of  justice,  is  a  more  satisfy  ing  echo  to  the  heart, 
than  the  voice  of  poets  and  the  casual  sympathy  of 
admirable  persons.  I  think  that  however  a  thought 
ful  man  may  suffer  from  the  defects  and  absurdities 
of  his  company,  he  cannot  without  affectation  deny 
to  any  set  of  men  and  women,  a  sensibility  to  ex 
traordinary  merit.  The  coarse  and  frivolous  have 
an  instinct  of  superiority,  if  they  have  not  a  sym 
pathy,  and  honor  it  in  their  blind  capricious  way 
with  sincere  homage. 

The  fine  young  people  despise  life,  but  in  me, 
and  in  such  as  with  me  are  free  from  dyspepsia, 
and  to  whom  a  day  is  a  sound  and  solid  good,  it  is 
a  great  excess  of  politeness  to  look  scornful  and  to 
cry  for  company.  I  am  grown  by  sympathy  a  little 
eager  and  sentimental,  but  leave  me  alone,  and  I 
should  relish  every  hour  and  what  it  brought  me, 
the  pot-luck  of  the  day,  as  heartily  as  the  oldest- 
gossip  in  the  bar-room.  I  am  thankful  for  small 
mercies.  I  compared  notes  with  one  of  my  friends 
who  expects  everything  of  the  universe,  and  is  dis- 


56  EXPERIENCE. 

appointed  when  anything  is  less  than  the  best,  and 
I  found  that  I  begin  at  the  other  extreme,  expecting 
nothing,  and  am  always  full  of  thanks  for  moderate 
goods.  I  accept  the  clangor  and  jangle  of  contrary 
tendencies.  I  find  my  account  in  sots  and  bores 
also.  They  give  a  reality  to  the  circumjacent  pict 
ure,  which  such  a  vanishing  meteorons  appearance 
can  ill  spare.  In  the  morning  I  awake,  and  find  the 
old  world,  wife,  babes,  and  mother,  Concord  and 
Boston,  the  dear  old  spiritual  world,  and  even  the 
dear  old  devil  not  far  off.  If  we  will  take  the  good 
we  find,  asking  no  questions,  we  shall  have  heaping 
measures.  The  great  gifts  are  not  got  by  analysis. 
Everything  good  is  on  the  highway.  The  middle 
region  of  our  being  is  the  temperate  zone.  We 
may  climb  into  the  thin  and  cold  realm  of  pure 
geometry  and  lifeless  science,  or  sink  into  that  of 
sensation.  Between  these  extremes  is  the  equator 
of  life,  of  thought,  of  spirit,  of  poetry, — a  narrow 
belt.  Moreover,  in  popular  experience  everything 
good  is  on  the  highway.  A  collector  peeps  into  all 
the  picture-shops  of  Europe,  for  a  landscape  of 
Poussin,  a  crayon-sketch  of  Salvator ;  but  the 
Transfiguration,  the  Last  Judgment,  the  Commun 
ion  of  St.  Jerome,  and  what  are  as  transcendent 
as  these,  are  on  the  walls  of  the  Yatican,  the  Uffizii, 
or  the  Louvre,  where  every  footman  may  see  them  ; 
te  say  nothing  of  nature's  pictures  in  every  street, 
of  sunsets  and  sunrises  every  day,  and  the  sculpture 
of:  the  human  body  never  absent.  A  collector  re 


EXPERIENCE.  57 

cently  bought  at  public  auction,  in  London,  for  one 
hundred  and  fifty-seven  guineas,  an  autograph  of 
Shakspeare  :  but  for  nothing  a  school-boy  can  read 
Hamlet,  and  can  detect  secrets  of  highest  concern 
ment  yet  unpublished  therein.  I  think  I  will  never 
read  any  but  the  commonest  books, — the  Bible, 
Homer,  Dante,  Shakspeare,  and  Milton.  Then  we 
are  impatient  of  so  public  a  life  and  planet,  and  run 
hither  and  thither  for  nooks  and  secrets.  The  im 
agination  delights  in  the  woodcraft  of  Indians, 
trappers,  and  bee-hunters.  We  fancy  that  we  are 
strangers,  and  not  so  intimately  domesticated  in  the 
planet  as  the  wild  man,  and  the  wild  beast  and  bird. 
But  the  exclusion  reaches  them  also;  reaches  the 
climbing,  flying,  gliding,  feathered  and  four-footed 
man.  Fox  and  woodchuck,  hawk  and  snipe,  and 
bittern,  when  nearly  seen,  have  no  more  root  in  the 
deep  world  than  man,  and  are  just  such  superficial 
tenants  of  the  globe.  Then  the  new  molecular 
philosophy  shows  astronomical  interspaces  betwixt 
atom  and  atom,  shows  that  the  world  is  all  outside  : 
it  has  no  inside. 

The  mid-world  is  best.  Nature,  as  we  know  her, 
is  no  saint.  The  lights  of  the  church,  the  ascetics, 
Gentoos  and  Grahamites,  she  does  not  distinguish 
by  any  favor.  She  comes  eating  and  drinking  and 
sinning.  Tier  darlings,  the  great,  the  strong,  the 
beautiful,  are  not  children  of  our  law,  do  not  come 
out  of  the  Sunday  School,  nor  weigh  their  food,  nor 
punctually  keep  the  commandments.  If  we  will  be 


58  EXPERIENCE. 

strong  with  her  strength,  we  must  not  harbor  such 
disconsolate  consciences,  borrowed  too  from  the 
consciences  of  other  nations.  We  must  set  up 
the  strong  present  tense  against  all  the  rumors 
of  wrath,  past  or  to  come.  So  many  things  are 
unsettled  which  it  is  of  the  first  importance  to 
settle, — and,  pending  their  settlement,  we  will  do 
as  we  do.  Whilst  the  debate  goes  forward  on  the 
equity  of  commerce,  and  will  not  be  closed  for  a 
century  or  two,  New  and  Old  England  may  keep 
shop.  Law  of  copyright  and  international  copy 
right  is  to  be  discussed,  and,  in  the  interim,  we  will 
sell  our  books  for  the  most  we  can.  Expediency 
of  literature,  reason  of  literature,  lawfulness  of 
writing  down  a  thought,  is  questioned  ;  much  is  to 
say  on  both  sides,  and,  while  the  fight  waxes  hot, 
thou,  dearest  scholar,  stick  to  thy  foolish  task,  add 
a  line  every  hour,  and  between  whiles  add  a  line. 
Right  to  hold  land,  right  of  property,  is  disputed, 
and  the  conventions  convene,  and  before  the  vote 
is  taken,  dig  away  in  your  garden,  and  spend  your 
earnings  as  a  waif  or  godsend  to  all  serene  and 
beautiful  purposes.  Life  itself  is  a  bubble  and  a 
scepticism,  and  a  sleep  within  a  sleep.  Grant  it, 
and  as  much  more  as  they  will, — but  thou,  God's 
darling  !  heed  thy  private  dream  :  thou  wilt  not  be 
missed  in  the  scorning  and  scepticism  :  there  are 
enough  of  them  :  stay  there  in  thy  closet,  and  toil, 
until  the  rest  are  agreed  what  to  do  about  it.  Thy 
sickness,  they  say,  and  thy  puny  habit,  require  that 


EXPERIENCE.  59 

thou  do  this  or  avoid  that,  but  know  that  thy  life 
is  a  flitting  state,  a  tent  for  a  night,  and  do  thon, 
sick  or  well,  finish  that  stint.  Thon  art  sick,  but 
shalt  not  be  worse,  and  the  universe,  which  holds 
thee  dear,  shall  be  the  better. 

Human  life  is  made  up  of  the  two  elements, 
power  and  form,  and  the  proportion  must  be  invari 
ably  kept,  if  we  would  have  it  sweet  and  sound. 
Each  of  these  elements  in  excess  makes  a  mischief 
as  hurtful  as  its  defect.  Everything  runs  to  excess  : 
every  good  quality  is  noxious,  if  unmixed,  and,  to 
carry  the  danger  to  the  edge  of  ruin,  nature  causes 
each  man's  peculiarity  to  superabound.  Here,  among 
the  farms,  we  adduce  the  scholars  as  examples  of 
this  treachery.  They  are  nature's  victims  of  ex 
pression.  You  who  see  the  artist,  the  orator,  the 
poet,  too  near,  and  find  their  life  no  more  excellent 
than  that  of  mechanics  or  farmers,  and  themselves 
victims  of  partiality,  very  hollow  and  haggard,  and 
pronounce  them  failures, — not  heroes,  but  quacks, 
— conclude  very  reasonably,  that  these  arts  are  not 
for  man,  but  are  disease.  Yet  nature  will  not  bear 
you  out.  Irresistible  nature  made  men  such,  and 
makes  legions  more  of  such,  every  day.  You  love 
the  boy  reading  in  a  book,  gazing  at  a  drawing,  or 
a  cast:  yet  what  are  these  millions  who  read  and 
behold,  but  incipient  writers  and  sculptors  ?  Add 
a  little  more  of  that  quality  which  now  reads  and 
sees,  and  they  will  seize  the  pen  and  chisel.  And 
if  one  remembers  how  innocently  he  began  to  be 


60  EXPERIENCE. 

an  artist,  lie  perceives  that  nature  joined  with  his 
enemy.  A  man  is  a  golden  impossibility.  The  line 
he  must  walk  is  a  hair's  breadth.  The  wise  through 
excess  of  wisdom  is  made  a  fool. 

How  easily,  if  fate  would  suffer  it,  we  might  keep 
forever  these  beautiful  limits,  and  adjust  ourselves, 
once  for  all,  to  the  perfect  calculation  of  the  king 
dom  of  known  cause  and  effect.  In  the  street  and 
in  the  newspapers,  life  appears  so  plain  a  business, 
that  manly  resolution  and  adherence  to  the  multi 
plication-table  through  all  weathers,  will  insure  suc 
cess.  But  ah  !  presently  comes  a  day,  or  it  is  only 
a  half-hour,  with  its  angel-whispering, — which  dis 
comfits  the  conclusions  of  nations  and  of  years  ! 
To-morrow  again,  everything  looks  real  and  angular, 
the  habitual  standards  are  reinstated,  common  sense 
is  as  rare  as  genius, — is  the  basis  of  genius,  and  ex 
perience  is  hands  and  feet  to  every  enterprise ; — 
and  yet,  he  who  should  do  his  business  on  this  un 
derstanding,  would  be  quickly  bankrupt.  Power 
keeps  quite  another  road  than  the  turnpikes  of 
choice  and  will,  namely,  the  subterranean  and  in 
visible  tunnels  and  channels  of  life.  It  is  ridicu 
lous  that  we  are  diplomatists,  and  doctors,  and  con 
siderate  people  :  there  are  no  dupes  like  these.  Life 
is  a  series  of  surprises,  and  would  not  be  worth  tak 
ing  or  keeping,  if  it  were  not.  God  delights  to  iso 
late  us  every  day,  and  hide  from  us  the  past  and  the 
future.  We  should  look  about  us,  but  with  grand 
politeness  he  draws  down  before  us  an  impenetrable 


EXPERIENCE.  61 

screen  of  purest  sky,  and  another  behind  us  of  pur 
est  sky.  "  You  will  not  remember,"  he  seems  to  say, 
"  and  you  will  not  expect."  All  good  conversation, 
manners,  and  action,  come  from  a  spontaneity  which 
forgets  usages,  and  makes  the  moment  great.  Nat 
ure  hates  calculators  ;  her  methods  are  saltatory  and 
impulsive.  Man  lives  by  pulses  ;  our  organic  move 
ments  are  such ;  and  the  chemical  and  ethereal 
agents  are  undulatory  and  alternate  ;  and  the  mind 
goes  antagonizing  on,  and  never  prospers  but  by 
fits.  AVe  thrive  by  casualties.  Our  chief  experi 
ences  have  been  casual.  The  most  attractive  class 
of  people  are  those  who  are  powerful  obliquely,  and 
not  by  the  direct  stroke  :  men  of  genius,  but  not  yet 
accredited  :  one  gets  the  cheer  of  their  light,  with 
out  paying  too  great  a  tax.  Theirs  is  the  beauty  of 
the  bird,  or  the  morning  light,  and  not  of  art.  In 
the  thought  of  genius  there  is  always  a  surprise ;  and 
the  moral  sentiment  is  well  called  "  the  newness," 
for  it  is  never  other ;  as  new  to  the  oldest  intelli 
gence  as  to  the  young  child, —  "  the  kingdom  that 
cometh  without  observation."  In  like  manner,  for 
practical  success,  there  must  not  be  too  much  de 
sign.  A  man  will  not  be  observed  in  doing  that 
which  he  can  do  best.  There  is  a  certain  magic 
about  his  properest  action,  which  stupefies  your 
powers  of  observation,  so  that  though  it  is  done  be 
fore  you,  you  wist  not  of  it.  The  art  of  life  has  a 
pudency,  and  will  not  be  exposed.  Every  man  is 
an  impossibility,  until  he  is  born  ;  every  thing  im- 


62  EXPERIENCE. 

possible,  until  we  see  a  success.  The  ardors  of  pietj 
agree  at  last  with  the  coldest  scepticism, — that  noth 
ing  is  of  us  or  our  works, — that  all  is  of  God.  Xat- 
ure  will  not  spare  us  the  smallest  leaf  of  laurel.  All 
writing  comes  by  the  grace  of  God,  and  all  doing 
and  having.  I  would  gladly  be  moral,  and  keep 
due  metes  and  bounds,  which  I  dearly  love,  and  al 
low  the  most  to  the  will  of  man,  but  I  have  set  my 
heart  on  honesty  in  this  chapter,  and  I  can  see  noth 
ing  at  last,  in  success  or  failure,  than  more  or  less 
of  vital  force  supplied  from  the  Eternal.  The  re 
sults  of  life  are  uncalculated  and  nncalculable.  The 
years  teach  much  which  the  days  never  know.  The 
persons  who  compose  our  company,  converse,  and 
come  and  go,  and  design  and  execute  many  things, 
and  .somewhat  comes  of  it  all,  but  an  unlocked  for 
result.  The  individual  is  always  mistaken.  He  de 
signed  many  things,  and  drew  in  other  persons  as 
coadjutors,  quarrelled  with  some  or  all,  blundered 
much,  and  something  is  done  ;  all  are  a  little  ad 
vanced,  but  the  individual  is  always  mistaken.  It 
turns  out  somewhat  new,  and  very  unlike  what  he 
promised  himself. 

The  ancients,  struck  with  this  irreducibleness  of 
the  elements  of  human  life  to  calculation,  exalted 
Chance  into  a  divinity,  but  that  is  to  stay  too  long 
at  the  spark, — which  glitters  truly  at  one  point,— 
but  the  universe  is  warm  with  the  latency  of  the 
same  fire.  The  miracle  of  life  which  will  not  be 
expounded,  but  will  remain  a  miracle,  introduces  a 


EXPERIENCE.  63 

new  element.  In  the  growth  of  the  embryo,  Sir 
Everard  Home,  I  think,  noticed  that  the  evolution 
was  not  from  one  central  point,  but  co-active  from 
three  or  more  points.  Life  has  no  memory.  That 
which  proceeds  in  succession  might  be  remembered, 
but  that  which  is  co-existent,  or  ejaculated  from  a 
deeper  cause,  as  yet  far  from  being  conscious,  knows 
not  its  own  tendency.  So  is  it  with  us,  now  scep 
tical,  or  without  unity,  because  immersed  in  forms 
and  effects  all  seeming  to  be  of  equal  yet  hostile 
value,  and  now  religious,  whilst  in  the  reception  of 
spiritual  law.  Bear  with  these  distractions,  with 
this  coetaneous  growth  of  the  parts :  they  will  one 
day  be  me?nbers,  and  obey  one  will.  On  that  one 
will,  on  that  secret  cause,  they  nail  our  attention 
and  hope.  Life  is  hereby  melted  into  an  expecta 
tion  or  a  religion.  Underneath  the  inharmonious 
and  trivial  particulars,  is  a  musical  perfection,  the 
Ideal  journeying  always  with  us,  the  heaven  with 
out  rent  or  seam.  Do  but  observe  the  mode  of  our 
illumination.  When  I  converse  with  a  profound 
mind,  or  if  at  any  time  being  alone  I  have  good 
thoughts,  I  do  not  at  once  arrive  at  satisfactions,  as 
when,  being  thirsty,  I  drink  water,  or  go  to  the  fire, 
being  cold  :  no  !  but  I  am  at  first  apprised  of  my 
vicinity  to  a  new  and  excellent  region  of  life.  By 
persisting  to  read  or  to  think,  this  region  gives 
further  sign  of  itself,  as  it  were  in  flashes  of  light, 
in  sudden  discoveries  of  its  profound  beauty  and 
repose,  as  if  the  clouds  that  covered  it  parted  at  in- 


64  EXPERIENCE. 

tervals,  and  showed  the  approaching  traveller  the 
inland  mountains,  with  the  tranquil  eternal  mead 
ows  spread  at  their  base,  whereon  flocks  graze,  and 
shepherds  pipe  and  dance.  But  every  insight  from 
this  realm  of  thought  is  felt  as  initial,  and  promises 
a  sequel.  I  do  not  make  it ;  I  arrive  there,  and  be 
hold  what  was  there  already.  I  make  !  O,  no  !  I 
clap  my  hands  in  infantine  joy  and  amazement,  be 
fore  the  first  opening  to  me  of  this  august  magni 
ficence,  old  with  the  love  and  homage  of  innumer 
able  ages,  young  with  the  life  of  life,  the  sunbright 
Mecca  of  the  desert.  And  what  a  future  it  opens  ! 
I  feel  a  new  heart  beating  with  the  love  of  the  new 
beauty.  I  am  ready  to  die  out  of  nature,  and  be 
born  again  into  this  new  yet  unapproachable 
America  I  have  found  in  the  West. 

*'  Since  neither  now  nor  yesterday  began 
These  thoughts,  which  have  been  ever,  nor  yet  can 
A  man  be  found  who  their  first  entrance  knew." 

If  I  have  described  life  as  a  flux  of  moods,  I  must 
now  add,  that  there  is  that  in  us  which  changes  not, 
and  which  ranks  all  sensations  and  states  of  mind. 
The  consciousness  in  each  man  is  a  sliding  scale, 
which  identifies  him  now  with  the  First  Cause,  and 
now  with  the  flesh  of  his  body  ;  life  above  life,  in  in 
finite  degrees.  The  sentiment  from  which  it  sprung 
determines  the  dignity  of  any  deed,  and  the  question 
ever  is,  not,  what  you  have  done  or  forborne,  but, 
at  whose  command  you  have  done  or  forborne  it. 


EXPERIENCE.  65 

Fortune,  Minerva,  Muse,  Holy  Ghost, — these 
are  quaint  names,  too  narrow  to  cover  this  un 
bounded  substance.  The  baffled  intellect  must 
still  kneel  before  this  cause,  which  refuses  to  be 
named, — ineffable  cause,  which  every  fine  genius 
has  essayed  to  represent  by  some  emphatic  symbol, 
as,  Thales  by  water,  Anaxirnenes  by  air,  Anaxago- 
ras  by  (IVou?)  thought,  Zoroaster  by  fire,  Jesus 
and  the  moderns  by  love  :  and  the  metaphor  of 
each  has  become  a  national  religion.  The  Chinese 
Mencius  has  not  been  the  least  successful  in  his 
generalization.  "  I  fully  understand  language,"  he 
said,  "  and  nourish  well  my  vast-flowing  vigor." — 
"  I  beg  to  ask  what  you  call  Tast-flowing  vigor  \ '' — 
said  his  companion.  "  The  explanation,"  replied 
Mencius,  "  is  difficult.  This  rigor  is  supremely 
great,  and  in  the  highest  degree  unbending.  Nour 
ish  it  correctly,  and  do  it  no  injury,  and  it  will  fill 
up  the  vacancy  between  heaven  and  earth.  This 
vigor  accords  with  and  assists  justice  and  reason, 
and  leaves  no  hunger." — In  our  more  correct  writ 
ing,  we  give  to  this  generalization  the  name  of  Be 
ing,  and  thereby  confess  that  we  have  arrived  as  far 
as  we  can  go.  Suffice  it  for  the  joy  of  the  universe, 
that  we  have  not  arrived  at  a  wall,  but  at  intermin 
able  oceans.  Our  life  seems  not  present,  so  much 
as  prospective ;  not  for  the  affairs  on  which  it  is 
wasted,  but  as  a  hint  of  this  vast-flowing  vigor. 
Most  of  life  seems  to  be  mere  advertisement  of  fac 
ulty  :  information  is  given  us  not  to  sell  ourselves 
5 


66  EXPERIENCE. 

cheap ;  that  we  are  very  great.  So,  in  particulars, 
our  greatness  is  always  in  a  tendency  or  direction, 
not  in  an  action.  It  is  for  us  to  believe  in  the  rule, 
not  in  the  exception.  The  noble  are  thus  known 
from  the  ignoble.  So  in  accepting  the  leading  of 
the  sentiments,  it  is  not  what  we  believe  concerning 
the  immortality  of  the  soul,  or  the  like,  but  the  uni 
versal  impulse  to  believe,  that  is  the  material  cir 
cumstance,  and  is  the  principal  fact  in  the  history  of 
the  globe.  Shall  we  describe  this  cause  as  that 
which  works  directly  ?  The  spirit  is  not  helpless 
or  needful  of  mediate  organs.  It  has  plentiful 
powers  and  direct  effects.  I  am  explained  without 
explaining,  I  am  felt  without  acting,  and  where  I 
am  not.  Therefore  all  just  persons  are  satisfied  with 
their  own  praise.  They  refuse  to  explain  them 
selves,  and  are  content  that  new  actions  should  do 
them  that  office.  They  believe  that  we  communi 
cate  without  speech,  and  above  speech,  and  that  no 
right  action  of  ours  is  quite  unaffecting  to  our 
friends,  at  whatever  distance ;  for  the  influence  of 
action  is  not  to  be  measured  by  miles.  Why 
should  I  fret  myself,  because  a  circumstance  has 
occurred,  which  hinders  my  presence  where  I  was 
expected  ?  If  I  am  not  at  the  meeting,  my  pres 
ence  where  I  am,  should  be  as  useful  to  the  com- 
monwealth  of  friendship  and  wisdom,  as  would  be 
my  presence  in  that  place.  I  exert  the  same  qual 
ity  of  power  in  all  places.  Tims  journeys  tlio 
mighty  Ideal  before  us  ;  it  never  was  known  to  fall 


EXPERIENCE.  67 

into  the  rear,  No  man  ever  carne  to  an  experience 
which  was  satiating,  but  his  good  is  tidings  of  a 
better.  Onward  and  onward  !  In  liberated  mo 
ments,  we  know  that  a  new  picture  of  life  and  duty 
is  already  possible  ;  the  elements  already  exist  in 
many  minds  around  you,  of  a  doctrine  of  life  which 
shall  transcend  any  written  record  we  have.  The 
new  statement  will  comprise  the  scepticisms,  as 
well  as  the  faiths  of  society,  and  out  of  unbeliefs  a 
creed  shall  be  formed.  For,  scepticisms  are  not 
gratuitous  or  lawless,  but  are  limitations  of  the  af 
firmative  statement,  and  the  new  philosophy  must 
take  them  in,  and  make  affirmations  outside  of  them, 
jnst  as  much  as  it  must  include  the  oldest  beliefs. 

It  is  very  unhappy,  but  too  late  to  be  helped,  the 
-iiscovery  we  have  made,  that  we  exist.  That  dis 
covery  is  called  the  Fall  of  Man.  Ever  afterwards, 
we  suspect  our  instruments.  We  have  learned  that 
we  do  not  see  directly,  but  mediately,  arid  that  we 
have  no  means  of  correcting  these  colored  and  dis 
torting  lenses  which  we  are,  or  of  computing  the 
amount  of  their  errors.  Perhaps  these  subject- 
lenses  have  a  creative  power  ;  perhaps  there  are  no 
objects.  Once  we  lived  in  what  we  saw  ;  now,  the 
rapaciousness  of  this  new  power,  which  threatens 
to  absorb  all  things,  engages  us.  Nature,  art,  per 
sons,  letters,  religions, — objects,  successively  tumble 
in,  and  God  is  but  one  of  its  ideas.  Nature  and 
literature  are  subjective  phenomena  ;  every  evil  and 
every  good  thing  is  a  shadow  which  we  cast.  The 


6$  EXPERIENCE. 

street  is  full  of  humiliations  to  the  proud.  As  the 
fop  contrived  to  dress  his  bailiffs  in  his  livery,  and 
make  them  wait  on  his  guests  at  table,  so  the  cha 
grins  which  the  bad  heart  gives  off  as  bubbles,  at 
once  take  form  as  ladies  and  gentlemen  in  the  street, 
shopmen  or  barkeepers  in  hotels,  and  threaten  or 
insult  whatever  is  threatenable  and  insul table  in  us. 
'Tis  the  same  with  our  idolatries.  People  forget 
that  it  is  the  eye  which  makes  the  horizon,  and  the 
rounding  mind's  eye  which  makes  this  or  that  man 
a  type  or  representative  of  humanity  with  the  name 
of  hero  or  saint.  Jesus  the  "  providential  man,"  is 
a  good  man  on  whom  many  people  are  agreed  that 
these  optical  laws  shall  take  effect.  By  love  on  one 
part,  and  by  forbearance  to  press  objection  on  the 
other  part,  it  is  for  a  time  settled,  that  we  will  look 
at  him  in  the  centre  of  the  horizon,  and  ascribe  to 
him  the  properties  that  will  attach  to  any  man  so 
seen.  But  the  longest  love  or  aversion  has  a  speedy 
term.  The  great  and  crescive  self,  rooted  in  abso 
lute  nature,  supplants  all  relative  existence,  and 
ruins  the  kingdom  of  mortal  friendship  and  love. 
Marriage  (in  what  is  called  the  spiritual  world)  is 
impossible,  because  of  the  inequality  between  every 
subject  and  every  object.  The  subject  is  the  receiver 
of  Godhead,  and  at  every  comparison  must  feel  his 
being  enhanced  by  that  cryptic  might.  Though  not 
in  energy,  yet  by  presence,  this  magazine  of  sub 
stance  cannot  be  otherwise  than  felt :  nor  can  any 
force  of  intellect  attribute  to  the  object  the  proper 


EXPERIENCE.  69 

deity  which  sleeps  or  wakes  forever  in  every  sub 
ject.  Never  can  love  make  consciousness  and  ascrip 
tion  equal  in  force.  There  will  be  the  same  gulf 
between  every  me  and  thee,  as  between  the  origi 
nal  and  the  picture.  The  universe  is  the  bride  of 
the  soul.  All  private  sympathy  is  partial.  Two 
human  beings  are  like  globes,  which  can  touch  only 
in  a  point,  and,  whilst  they  remain  in  contact,  all 
other  points  of  each  of  the  spheres  are  inert ;  their 
turn  must  also  come,  and  the  longer  a  particular 
union  lasts,  the  more  energy  of  appetency  the  parts 
not  in  union  acquire. 

Life  will  be  imaged,  but  cannot  be  divided  nor 
doubled.  Any  invasion  of  its  unity  would  be  chaos. 
The  soul  is  not  twin-born,  but  the  only  begotten, 
and  though  revealing  itself  as  child  in  time,  child 
in  appearance,  is  of  a  fatal  and  universal  power,  ad 
mitting  no  co-life.  Every  day,  every  act  betrays 
the  ill-concealed  deity.  We  believe  in  ourselves, 
as  we  do  not  believe  in  others.  We  permit  all 
things  to  ourselves,  and  that  which  we  call  sin  in 
others,  is  experiment  for  us.  It  is  an  instance  of 
our  faith  in  ourselves,  that  men  never  speak  of 
crime  as  lightly  as  they  think  :  or,  every  man  thinks 
a  latitude  safe  for  himself,  which  is  nowise  to  be  in 
dulged  to  another.  The  act  looks  very  differently 
on  the  inside,  and  on  the  outside ;  in  its  quality, 
and  in  its  consequences.  Murder  in  the  murderer 
is  no  such  ruinous  thought  as  poets  and  romancers 
will  have  it ;  it  does  not  unstttle  him,  or  fright  him 


70  EXPERIENCE. 

from  his  ordinary  notice  of  trifles  :  it  is  an  act 
quite  easy  to  be  contemplated,  but  in  its  sequel,  it 
turns  out  to  be  a  horrible  jangle  and  confounding 
of  all  relations.  Especially  the  crimes  that  spring 
from  love,  seem  right  and  fair  from  the  actor's  point 
of  view,  but,  when  acted,  are  found  destructive  of 
society.  No  man  at  last  believes  that  he  can  be 
lost,  nor  that  the  crime  in  him  is  as  black  as  in  the 
felon.  Because  the  intellect  qualifies  in  our  own 
case  the  moral  judgments.  For  there  is  no  crime 
to  the  intellect.  That  is  antinomian  or  hyper- 
nomian,  and  judges  law  as  well  as  fact.  "  It  is 
worse  than  a  crime,  it  is  a  blunder,"  said  Napoleon, 
speaking  the  language  of  the  intellect.  To  it,  the 
world  is  a  problem  in  mathematics  or  the  science  of 
quantity,  and  it  leaves  out  praise  and  blame,  and 
all  weak  emotions.  All  stealing  is  comparative. 
If  you  come  to  absolutes,  pray  who  does  not  steal  ? 
Saints  are  sad,  because  they  behold  sin,  (even  when 
they  speculate,)  from  the  point  of  view  of  the  con 
science,  and  not  of  the  intellect ;  a  confusion  of 
thought.  Sin  seen  from  the  thought,  is  a  diminu 
tion  or  leas:  seen  from  the  conscience  or  will,  it  is 
pravity  or  bad.  The  intellect  names  it  shade,  ab 
sence  of  light,  and  no  essence.  The  conscience 
must  feel  it  as  essence,  essential  evil.  This  it  is 
not :  it  has  an  objective  existence,  but  no  subjective. 
Thus  inevitably  does  the  universe  wear  our  color, 
and  every  object  fall  successively  into  the  subject 
itself.  The  subject  exists,  the  subject  enlarges ;  all 


EXPERIENCE.  71 

things  sooner  or  later  fall  into  place.  As  I  am,  so 
I  see  ;  use  what  language  we  will,  we  can  never  say 
anything  but  what  we  are ;  Hermes,  Cadmus,  Co 
lumbus,  Newton,  Buonaparte,  are  the  mind's  minis 
ters.  Instead  of  feeling  a  poverty  when  we  en 
counter  a  great  man,  let  us  treat  the  new  comer 
like  a  travelling  geologist,  who  passes  through  our 
estate,  and  shows  us  good  slate,  or  limestone,  or 
anthracite,  in  onr  brush  pasture.  The  partial  action 
of  each  strong  mind  in  one  direction,  is  a  telescope 
for  the  objects  on  which  it  is  pointed.  But  every 
other  part  of  knowledge  is  to  be  pushed  to  the  same 
extravagance,  ere  the  soul  attains  her  due  spheric 
ity.  Do  you  see  that  kitten  chasing  so  prettily  her 
own  tail  ?  If  you  could  look  with  her  eyes,  you 
might  see  her  surrounded  with  hundreds  of  figures 
performing  complex  dramas,  with  tragic  and  comic 
issues,  long  conversations,  many  characters,  many 
ups  and  downs  of  fate, — and  meantime  it  is  only 
puss  and  her  tail.  How  long  before  our  masquer 
ade  will  end  its  noise  of  tamborines,  laughter,  and 
shouting,  and  we  shall  find  it  was  a  solitary  per 
formance  ? — A  subject  and  an  object, — it  takes  so 
much  to  make  the  galvanic  circuit  complete,  but 
magnitude  adds  nothing.  What  imports  it  whether 
it  is  Kepler  and  the  sphere ;  Columbus  and  Amer 
ica  ;  a  reader  and  his  book ;  or  puss  with  her  tail  ? 
It  is  true  that  all  the  muses  and  love  and  religion 
hate  these  developments,  and  will  find  a  way  to 
punish  the  chemist,  who  publishes  in  the  parlor  the 


72  EXPERIENCE!. 

secrets  of  the  laboratory.  And  we  cannot  say  too 
little  of  our  constitutional  necessity  of  seeing  things 
under  private  aspects,  or  saturated  with  our  humors. 
And  yet  is  the  God  the  native  of  these  bleak  rocks. 
That  need  makes  in  morals  the  capital  virtue  of 
self-trust.  We  must  hold  hard  to  this  poverty, 
however  scandalous,  and  by  more  vigorous  self- 
recoveries,  after  the  sallies  of  action,  possess  our 
axis  more  firmly.  The  life  of  truth  is  cold,  and  so 
far  mournful ;  but  it  is  not  the  slave  of  tears,  con 
tritions,  and  perturbations.  It  does  not  attempt 
another's  work,  nor  adopt  another's  facts.  It  is  a 
main  lesson  of  wisdom  to  know  your  own  from  an 
other's.  I  have  learned  that  I  cannot  dispose  of 
other  people's  facts  ;  but  I  possess  such  a  key  to  my 
own,  as  persuades  me  against  all  their  denials,  that 
they  also  have  a  key  to  theirs.  A  sympathetic  per 
son  is  placed  in  the  dilemma  of  a  swimmer  among 
drowning  men,  who  all  catch  at  him,  and  if  he  gives 
so  much  as  a  leg  or  a  finger,  they  will  drown  him. 
They  wish  to  be  saved  from  the  mischiefs  of  their 
vices  but  not  from  their  vices.  Charity  would  be 
wasted  on  this  poor  waiting  on  the  symptoms.  A 
wise  and  hardy  physician  will  say,  Come  out  of  that, 
as  the  first  condition  of  advice. 

In  this  our  talking  America,  we  are  ruined  by  our 
good  nature  and  listening  on  all  sides.  This  com 
pliance  takes  away  the  power  of  being  greatly  use 
ful.  A  man  should  n0t  be  able  to  look  other  than 
directly  and  forthright.  A  preoccupied  attention 


EXPERIENCE.  73 

is  the  only  answer  to  the  importunate  frivolity 
of  other  people :  an  attention,  and  to  an  aim  which 
makes  their  wants  frivolous.  This  is  a  divine  an 
swer,  and  leaves  no  appeal,  and  no  hard  thoughts. 
In  Flaxman's  drawing  of  the  Eumenides  of  ^Eschy- 
lus,  Orestes  supplicates  Apollo,  whilst  the  Furies 
sleep  on  the  threshold.  The  face  of  the  god  ex 
presses  a  shade  of  regret  and  compassion,  but  calm 
with  the  conviction  of  the  irreconcilableness  of  the 
two  spheres.  He  is  born  into  other  politics,  into 
the  eternal  and  beautiful.  The  man  at  his  feet  asks 
for  his  interest  in  turmoils  of  the  earth,  into  which 
his  nature  cannot  enter.  And  the  Eumenides  there 
lying  express  pictorially  this  disparity.  The  god  is 
surcharged  with  his  divine  destiny. 

Illusion,  Temperament,  Succession,  Surface,  Sur 
prise,  Reality,  Subjectiveness, — these  are  threads 
on  the  loom  of  time,  these  are  the  lords  of  life.  I 
dare  not  assume  to  give  their  order,  but  I  name 
them  as  I  find  them  in  my  way.  I  know  better  than 
to  claim  any  completeness  for  my  picture.  I  am  a 
fragment,  and  this  is  a  fragment  of  me.  I  can  very 
confidently  announce  one  or  another  law,  which 
throws  itself  into  relief  and  form,  but  I  am  too 
young  yet  by  some  ages  to  compile  a  code.  I  gos 
sip  for  my  hour  concerning  the  eternal  politics.  I 
have  seen  many  fair  pictures  not  in  vain.  A  Won 
derful  time  I  have  lived  in.  I  am  not  the  novice 
I  was  fourteen,  nor  yet  seven  years  ago.  Let  \\  ho 


74:  EXPERIENCE. 

will  ask,  where  is  the  fruit  ?  I  find  a  private  fruit 
sufficient.  This  is  a  fruit, — that  I  should  not  ask 
for  a  rash  effect  from  meditations,  counsels,  and  the 
hiving  of  truths.  I  should  feel  it  pitiful  to  demand 
a  result  on  this  town  and  county,  an  overt  effect  on 
the  instant  month  and  year.  The  effect  is  deep  and 
secular  as  the  cause.  It  works  on  periods  in  which 
mortal  lifetime  is  lost.  All  I  know  is  reception  ;  I 
am  and  I  have :  but  I  do  not  get,  and  when  I  have 
fancied  I  had  gotten  anything,  I  found  I  did  not. 
I  worship  with  wonder  the  great  Fortune.  My  re 
ception  has  been  so  large,  that  I  am  not  annoyed 
by  receiving  this  or  that  superabundantly.  I  say 
to  the  Genius,  if  he  will  pardon  the  proverb,  In  for 
a  mill,  in  for  a  million.  When  I  receive  a  new 
gift,  I  do  not  macerate  my  body  to  make  the  ac 
count  square,  for,  if  I  should  die,  I  could  not  make 
the  account  square.  The  benefit  overran  the  merit 
the  first  day,  and  has  overran  the  merit  ever  since. 
The  merit  itself,  so-called,  I  reckon  part  of  the  re 
ceiving. 

Also,  that  hankering  after  an  overt  or  practical 
effect  seems  to  me  an  apostasy.  In  good  earnest,  I 
am  willing  to  spare  this  most  unnecessary  deal  of 
doing.  Life  wears  to  me  a  visionary  face.  Hard 
est,  roughest  action  is  visionary  also.  It  is  but  a 
choice  between  soft  and  turbulent  dreams.  People 
disparage  knowing  and  the  intellectual  life,  and  urge 
doing.  I  am  very  content  with  knowing,  if  only  I 
could  know.  That  is  an  august  entertainment,  and 


EXPERIENCE.  75 

would  suffice  me  a  great  while.  To  know  a  little, 
would  be  worth  the  expense  of  this  world.  I  hear 
always  the  law  of  Adrastia,  "  that  every  soul  which 
had  acquired  any  truth,  should  be  safe  from  harm 
until  another  period." 

I  know  that  the  world  I  converse  with  in  the  city 
and  in  the  farms,  is  not  the  world  I  think.  I  ob 
serve  that  difference,  and  shall  observe  it.  One  day, 
I  shall  know  the  value  and  law  of  this  discrepance. 
But  I  have  not  found  that  much  was  gained  by 
manipular  attempts  to  realize  the  world  of  thought. 
Many  eager  persons  successively  make  an  experiment 
in  this  way,  and  make  themselves  ridiculous.  They 
acquire  democratic  manners,  they  foam  at  the  mouth, 
they  hate  and  deny.  Worse,  I  observe,  that,  in  the 
history  of  mankind,  there  is  never  a  solitary  exam 
ple  of  success, — taking  their  own  tests  of  success.  1 
say  this  polemically,  or  in  reply  to  the  inquiry,  why 
not  realize  your  world  ?  But  far  be  from  me  the 
despair  which  prejudges  the  law  by  a  paltry  empiri 
cism, — since  there  never  was  a  right  endeavor,  but 
it  succeeded.  Patience  and  patience,  we  shall  win 
at  the  last.  We  must  be  very  suspicious  of  the  de 
ceptions  of  the  element  of  time.  It  takes  a  good 
deal  of  time  to  eat  or  to  sleep,  or  to  earn  a  hundred 
dollars,  and  a  very  little  time  to  entertain  a  hope 
and  an  insight  which  becomes  the  light  of  our  life. 
We  dress  our  garden,  eat  our  dinners,  discuss  the 
household  with  our  wives,  and  these  things  make  no 
impression,  are  forgotten  next  week  ;  but  in  ths  soli- 


76  EXPERIENCE. 

tude  to  which  every  man  is  always  returning,  he  has 
a  sanity  and  revelations,  which  in  his  passage  into 
new  worlds  he  will  carry  with  him.  Xever  mind 
the  ridicule,  never  mind  the  defeat :  up  again,  old 
heart!— it  seems  to  say, — there  is  victory  yet  for 
all  justice ;  and  the  true  romance  which  the  world 
exists  to  realize,  will  be  the  transformation  of  genius 
into  practical  power. 


CHARACTER. 


The  sun  set  ;  but  set  not  his  hope : 
Stars  rose  ;  his  faith  was  earlier  up  : 
Fixed  on  the  enormous  galaxy, 
Deeper  and  older  seemed  his  eye : 
And  matched  his  sufferance  sublime 
The  taciturnity  of  time. 
He  spoke,  and  words  more  soft  than  rain 
Brought  the  Age  of  Gold  again  : 
His  action  won  such  reverence  sweet, 
As  hid  all  measure  of  the  feat. 


Work  of  his  hand 
He  nor  commends  nor  grieves  : 
Pleads  for  itself  the  fact  ; 
As  unrepenting  Nature  leaves 
Her  every  act. 


I  HAVE  read  that  those  who  listened  to  Lord  Chat- 
h>,n  felt  that  there  was  something  finer  in  the  man, 
than  anything  which  he  said.  It  has  been  com 
plained  of  our  brilliant  English  historian  of  the 
French  Revolution,  that  when  he  has  told  all  his 
facts  about  Mirabean,  they  do  not  justify  his  esti 
mate  of  his  genius.  The  Gracchi,  Agis,  Cleomencs, 


78  CHARACTER. 

and  others  of  Plutarch's  heroes,  do  not  in  the  record 
of  facts  equal  their  own  fame.  Sir  Philip  Sidney, 
the  Earl  of  Essex,  Sir  Walter  Raleigh,  are  men  of 
great  figure,  and  of  few  deeds.  We  cannot  find  the 
smallest  part  .of  the  personal  weight  of  Washing 
ton,  in  the  narrative  of  his  exploits.  The  authority 
of  the  name  of  Schiller  is  too  great  for  his  books. 
This  inequality  of  the  reputation  to  the  works  or  the 
anecdotes,  is  not  accounted  for  by  saying  that  the 
reverberation  is  longer  than  the  thunder-clap  ;  but 
somewhat  resided  in  these  men  which  begot  an  ex 
pectation  that  outran  all  their  performance.  The 
largest  part  of  their  power  was  latent.  This  is  that 
which  we  call  Character, — a  reserved  force  which 
acts  directly  by  presence,  and  without  means.  It  is 
conceived  of  as  a  certain  undemonstrable  force,  a 
Familiar  or  Genius,  by  whose  impulses  the  man  is 
guided,  but  whose  counsels  he  cannot  impart ;  which 
is  company  for  him,  so  that  such  men  are  often  soli 
tary,  or  if  they  chance  to  be  social,  do  not  need  so 
ciety,  but  can  entertain  themselves  very  well  alone. 
The  purest  literary  talent  appears  at  one  time  great, 
at  another  time  small,  but  character  is  of  a  stellar 
and  undiminishable  greatness.  What  others  effect 
by  talent  or  by  eloquence  this  man  accomplishes 
by  some  magnetism.  "  Half  his  strength  he  put  not 
forth."  His  victories  are  by  demonstration  of  su 
periority,  and  not  by  crossing  of  bayonets.  He  con 
quers,  because  his  arrival  alters  the  face  of  affairs. 
"  '  O  lole  1  how  did  you  know  that  Hercules  was  a 


CHARACTER.  79 

god  ? '  l  Because,'  answered  lole,  *  I  was  content 
the  moment  my  eyes  fell  on  him.  When  I  beheld 
Theseus,  I  desired  that  I  might  see  him  offer  battle, 
or  at  least  guide  his  horses  in  the  chariot-race ;  but 
Hercules  did  not  wait  for  a  contest ;  he  conquered 
whether  he  stood,  or  walked,  or  sat,  or  whatever 
thing  he  did.":  ]VIan,  ordinarily  a  pendant  to 
events,  only  half  attached,  and  that  awkwardly,  to 
the  world  he  lives  in,  in  these  examples  appears  to 
share  the  life  of  things,  and  to  be  an  expression  of 
the  same  laws  which  control  the  tides  and  the  sun, 
numbers  and  quantities. 

But  to  use  a  more  modest  illustration,  and  nearer 
home,  I  observe,  that  in  our  political  elections,  where 
this  element,  if  it  appears  at  all,  can  only  occur  in  its 
coarsest  form,  we  sufficiently  understand  its  incom 
parable  rate.  The  people  know  that  they  need  in  their 
representative  much  more  than  talent,  namely,  the 
power  to  make  his  talent  trusted.  They  cannot 
come  at  their  ends  by  sending  to  Congress  a  learned, 
acute,  and  fluent  speaker,  if  he  be  not  one,  who,  be 
fore  he  was  appointed  by  the  people  to  represent 
them,  was  appointed  by  Almighty  God  to  stand  for 
a  fact, — invincibly  persuaded  of  that  fact  in  himself, 
— so  that  the  most  confident  and  the  most  violent 
persons  learn  that  here  is  resistance  on  which  both 
impudence  and  terror  are  wasted,  namely,  faith  in  a 
fact.  The  men  who  carry  their  points  do  not  need 
to  inquire  of  their  constitutents  what  they  should 
say,  but  are  themselves  the  country  which  they  rep- 


80  CHARACTER. 

resent :  nowhere  are  its  emotions  or  opinions  so  in 
stant  and  true  as  in  them  ;  nowhere  so  pure  from 
a  selfish  infusion.  The  constituency  at  home  heark 
ens  to  their  words,  watches  the  color  of  their  cheek, 
and  therein,  as  in  a  glass,  dresses  its  own.  Our  pub 
lic  assemblies  are  pretty  good  tests  of  manly  force. 
Our  frank  countrymen  of  the  west  and  south  have 
a  taste  for  character,  and  like  to  know  whether  the 
New  Englander  is  a  substantial  man,  or  whether  the 
hand  can  pass  through  him. 

The  same  motive  force  appears  in  trade.  There 
are  geniuses  in  trade,  as  well  as  in  war,  or  the  state, 
or  letters  ;  and  the  reason  why  this  or  that  man  is 
fortunate,  is  not  to  be  told.  It  lies  in  the  man : 
that  is  all  anybody  can  tell  you  about  it.  See  him, 
and  you  will  know  as  easily  why  he  succeeds,  as,  if 
you  see  Napoleon,  you  would  comprehend  his  for 
tune.  In  the  new  objects  we  recognize  the  old 
game,  the  habit  of  fronting  the  fact,  and  not  dealing 
with  it  at  second-hand,  through  the  perceptions  of 
somebody  else.  Nature  seems  to  authorize  trade, 
as  soon  as  you  see  the  natural  merchant,  who  ap 
pears  not  so  much  a  private  agent,  as  her  factor  and 
Minister  of  Commerce.  His  natural  probity  com 
bines  with  his  insight  into  the  fabric  of  society,  to 
put  him  above  tricks,  and  he  communicates  to  all 
his  own  faith,  that  contracts  are  of  no  private  inter 
pretation.  The  habit  of  his  mind  is  a  reference  to 
standards  of  natural  equity  and  public  advantage ; 
and  he  inspires  respect,  and  the  wish  to  deal  with 


CHARACTER.  81 

him,  both  for  the  quiet  spirit  of  honor  which  attends 
him,  and  for  the  intellectual  pastime  which  the 
spectacle  of  so  much  ability  affords.  This  immense 
ly  stretched  trade,  which  makes  the  capes  of  the 
Southern  Ocean  his  wharves,  and  the  Atlantic  Sea 
his  familiar  port,  centres  in  his  brain  only  ;  and  no 
body  in  the  universe  can  make  his  place  good.  In 
his  parlor,  I  see  very  well  that  he  has  been  at  hard 
work  this  morning,  with  that  knitted  brow,  and  that 
settled  humor,  which  all  his  desire  to  be  courteous 
cannot  shake  off.  I  see  plainly  how  many  firm  acts 
have  been  done ;  how  many  valiant  noes  have  this 
day  been  spoken,  when  others  would  have  uttered 
ruinous  yeas.  I  see,  with  the  pride  of  art,  and  skill 
of  masterly  arithmetic  and  power  of  remote  com 
bination,  the  consciousness  of  being  an  agent  and 
playfellow  of  the  original  laws  of  the  world.  He 
too  believes  that  none  can  supply  him,  and  that  a 
man  must  be  born  to  trade,  or  he  cannot  learn  it. 

This  virtue  draws  the  mind  more,  when  it  ap 
pears  in  action  to  ends  not  so  mixed.  It  works 
with  most  energy  in  the  smallest  companies  and  in 
private  relations.  In  all  cases,  it  is  an  extraordinary 
and  incomputable  agent.  The  excess  of  physical 
strength  is  paralyzed  by  it.  Higher  natures  over 
power  lower  ones  by  affecting  them  with  a  certain 
sleep.  The  faculties  are  locked  up,  and  offer  no 
resistance.  Perhaps  that  is  the  universal  law. 
When  the  high  cannot  bring  up  the  low  to  itself,  it 

benumbs  it,  as  m-an  charms  down  the  resistance  of 
6 


82  CHARACTER. 

the  lower  animals.  Men  exert  on  each  other  a  simi 
lar  occult  power.  How  often  has  the  influence  of 
a  true  master  realized  all  the  tales  of  magic  !  A 
river  of  command  seemed  to  run  down  from  his 
eyes  into  all  those  who  beheld  him,  a  torrent  of 
strong  sad  light,  like  an  Ohio  or  Danube,  which 
pervaded  them  with  his  thoughts,  and  colored  all 
events  with  the  hue  of  his  mind.  "  What  means 
did  you  employ  ? "  was  the  question  asked  of  the 
wife  of  Concini,  in  regard  to  her  treatment  of  Mary 
of  Medici ;  and  the  answer  was,  "  Only  that  influ 
ence  which  every  strong  mind  has  over  a  weak  one.'' 
Cannot  Caesar  in  irons  shuffle  off  the  irons,  and 
transfer  them  to  the  person  of  Hippo  or  Thraso  the 
turnkey  ?  Is  an  iron  handcuff  so  immutable  a  bond  ? 
Suppose  a  slaver  on  the  coast  of  Guinea  should 
take  on  board  a  gang  of  negroes,  which  should  con 
tain  persons  of  the  stamp  of  Toussaint  L'Ouver- 
ture :  or,  let  us  fancy,  under  these  swarthy  masks 
he  has  a  gang  of  Washingtons  in  chains.  When 
they  arrive  at  Cuba,  will  the  relative  order  of  the 
ship's  company  be  the  same  ?  Is  there  nothing  but 
rope  and  iron  ?  Is  there  no  love,  no  reverence  ?  Is 
there  never  a  glimpse  of  right  in  a  poor  slave-cap 
tain's  mind  ;  and  cannot  these  be  supposed  available 
to  break,  or  elude,  or  in  any  manner  overmatch  the 
tension  of  an  inch  or  two  of  iron  ring  ? 

This  is  a  natural  power,  like  light  and  heat,  and 
all  nature  cooperates  with  it.  The  reason  why  we 
feel  one  man  s  presence,  and  do  not  feel  another's, 


CHARACTER.  83 

is  as  simple  as  gravity.  Truth  is  the  summit  of  be 
ing  :  justice  is  the  application  of  it  to  affairs.  All 
individual  natures  stand  in  a  scale,  according  to  the 
purity  of  this  element  in  them.  The  will  of  the 
pure  runs  down  from  them  into  other  natures,  as 
water  runs  down  from  a  higher  into  a  lower  ves 
sel.  This  natural  force  is  no  more  to  be  withstood, 
than  any  other  natural  force.  We  can  drive  a  stone 
upward  for  a  moment  into  the  air,  but  it  is  yet  true 
that  all  stones  will  forever  fall ;  and  whatever  in 
stances  can  be  quoted  of  unpunished  theft,  or  of  a 
lie  which  somebody  credited,  justice  must  prevail, 
and  it  is  the  privilege  of  truth  to  make  itself  be 
lieved.  Character  is  this  moral  order  seen  through 
the  medium  of  an  individual  nature.  An  individ 
ual  is  an  encloser.  Time  and  space,  liberty  and  ne 
cessity,  truth  and  thought,  are  left  at  large  no 
longer,  ^ow,  the  universe  is  a  close  or  pound. 
All  things  exist  in  the  man  tinged  with  the  man 
ners  of  his  soul.  With  what  quality  is  in  him,  he 
infuses  all  nature  that  he  can  reach;  nor  does  he 
tend  to  lose  himself  in  vastness,  but,  at  how  long  a 
curve  soever,  all  his  regards  return  into  his  own 
good  at  last.  He  animates  all  he  can,  and  he  sees 
only  what  he  animates.  He  encloses  the  world,  as 
the  patriot  does  his  country,  as  a  material  basis  for 
his  character,  and  a  theatre  for  action.  A  healthy 
soul  stands  united  with  the  Just  and  the  True,  as 
the  magnet  arranges  itself  with  the  pole,  so  that  he 
stands  to  all  beholders  like  a  transparent  object  be- 


84:  CHARACTER. 

twixt  them  and  the  sun,  and  whoso  journeys  to 
wards  the  sun,  journeys  towards  that  person.  lie 
is  thus  the  medium  of  the  highest  influence  to  all 
who  are  not  on  the  same  level.  Thus,  men  of  char 
acter  are  the  conscience  of  the  society  to  which 
they  belong. 

The  natural  measure  of  this  power  is  the  resist 
ance  of  circumstances.  Impure  men  consider  life 
as  it  is  reflected  in  opinions,  events,  and  persons. 
They  cannot  see  the  action,  until  it  is  done.  Yet 
its  moral  element  pre-existed  in  the  actor,  and  its 
quality  as  right  or  wrong,  it  was  easy  to  predict. 
Everything  in  nature  is  bipolar,  or  has  a  positive  and 
negative  pole.  There  is  a  male  and  a  female,  a 
spirit  and  a  fact,  a  north  and  a  south.  Spirit  is  the 
positive,  the  event  is  the  negative.  Will  is  the 
north,  action  the  south  pole.  Character  may  be 
ranked  as  having  its  natural  place  in  the  north.  It 
shares  the  magnetic  currents  of  the  system.  The 
feeble  souls  are  drawn  to  the  south  or  negative  pole. 
They  look  at  the  profit  or  hurt  of  the  action.  They 
never  behold  a  principle  until  it  is  lodged  in  a  per 
son.  They  do  not  wish  to  be  lovely,  but  to  be 
loved.  The  class  of  character  like  to  hear  of  their 
faults :  the  other  class  do  not  like  to  hear  of  faults  ; 
they  worship  events  ;  secure  to  them  a  fact,  a  con 
nexion,  a  certain  chain  of  circumstances,  and  they 
will  ask  no  more.  The  hero  sees  that  the  event  is 
ancillary :  it  must  follow  him.  A  given  order  of 
events  has  no  power  to  secure  to  him  the  satis- 


CHARACTER.  85 

faction  which  the  imagination  attaches  to  it ;  the 
soul  of  goodness  escapes  from  any  set  of  circum 
stances,  whilst  prosperity  belongs  to  a  certain  mind, 
and  will  introduce  that  power  and  victory  which  is 
its  natural  fruit,  into  any  order  of  events.  Ko 
change  of  circumstances  can  repair  a  defect  of  char 
acter.  We  boast  our  emancipation  from  many  su 
perstitions  ;  but  if  we  have  broken  any  idols,  it  is 
through  a  transfer  of  the  idolatry.  What  have  I 
gained,  that  I  no  longer  immolate  a  bull  to  Jove, 
or  to  Neptune,  or  a  mouse  to  Hecate  ;  that  I  do  not 
tremble  before  the  Eumenides,  or  the  Catholic 
Purgatory,  or  the  Calvinistic  Judgment-day, — if  I 
quake  at  opinion,  the  public  opinion,  as  we  call  it ; 
or  at  the  threat  of  assault,  or  contumely,  or  bad 
neighbors,  or  poverty,  or  mutilation,  or  at  the  ru 
mor  of  revolution,  or  of  murder?  If  I  quake, 
what  matters  it  what  I  quake  at  ?  Our  proper  vice 
takes  form  in  one  or  another  shape,  according  to 
the  sex,  age,  or  temperament  of  the  person,  and,  if 
we  are  capable  of  fear,  will  readily  find  terrors. 
The  covetousness  or  the  malignity  which  saddens 
me,  when  I  ascribe  it  to  society,  is  my  own.  I  am 
always  environed  by  myself.  On  the  other  part, 
rectitude  is  a  perpetual  victory,  celebrated  not  by 
cries  of  joy,  but  by  serenity,  which  is  joy  fixed  or 
habitual.  It  is  disgraceful  to  fly  to  events  for  con 
firmation  of  our  truth  and  worth.  The  capitalist 
does  not  run  every  hour  to  the  broker,  to  coin  his 
advantages  into  current  money  of  the  realm  ;  be  is 


86  CHARACTER. 

satisfied  to  read  in  the  quotations  of  the  market, 
that  his  stocks  have  risen.  The  same  transport 
which  the  occurrence  of  the  best  events  in  the  best 
order  would  occasion  me,  I  must  learn  to  taste 
purer  in  the  perception  that  my  position  is  every 
hour  meliorated,  and  does  already  command  those 
events  I  desire.  That  exultation  is  only  to  be 
checked  by  the  foresight  of  an  order  of  things  so 
excellent,  as  to  throw  all  our  prosperities  into  the 
deepest  shade. 

The  face  which  character  wears  to  me  is  self-suf- 
ficingness.  I  revere  the  person  who  is  riches  ;  so 
that  I  cannot  think  of  him  as  alone,  or  poor,  or 
exiled,  or  unhappy,  or  a  client,  but  as  perpetual 
patron,  benefactor,  and  beatified  man.  Character 
is  centrality,  the  impossibility  of  being  displaced 
or  overset.  A  man  should  give  us  a  sense  of  mass. 
Society  is  frivolous,  and  shreds  its  day  into  scraps, 
its  conversation  into  ceremonies  and  escapes.  But 
if  I  go  to  see  an  ingenious  man,  I  shall  think  my 
self  poorly  entertained  if  he  give  me  nimble  pieces 
of  benevolence  and  etiquette ;  rather  he  shall  stand 
stoutly  in  his  place,  and  let  me  apprehend,  if  it 
were  only  his  resistance ;  know  that  I  have  encoun 
tered  a  new  and  positive  quality ; — great  refresh 
ment  for  both  of  us.  It  is  much,  that  he  does  not 
accept  the  conventional  opinions  and  practices. 
That  nonconformity  will  remain  a  goad  and  re 
membrancer,  and  every  inquirer  will  have  to  dis 
pose  of  him,  in  the  first  place.  There  is  nothing 


CHARACTER.  87 

real  or  useful  that  is  not  a  seat  of  war.  Our  houses 
ring  with  laughter  and  personal  and  critical  gossip, 
but  it  helps  little.  But  the  uncivil,  unavailable 
man,  who  is  a  problem  and  a  threat  to  society, 
whom  it  cannot  let  pass  in  silence,  but  must  either 
worship  or  hate, — and  to  whom  all  parties  feel  re 
lated,  both  the  leaders  of  opinion,  and  the  obscure 
and  eccentric, — he  helps  ;  he  puts  America  and  Eu 
rope  in  the  wrong,  and  destroys  the  scepticism 
which  says,  "man  is  a  doll, let  us  eat  and  drink,  'tis 
the  best  we  can  do,"  by  illuminating  the  untried 
and  unknown.  Acquiescence  in  the  establishment, 
and  appeal  to  the  public,  indicate  infirm  faith, 
heads  which  are  not  clear,  and  which  must  see  a 
house  built,  before  they  can  comprehend  the  plan  of 
it.  The  wise  man  not  only  leaves  out  of  his 
thought  the  many,  but  leaves  out  the  few.  Foun 
tains,  fountains,  the  self -moved,  the  absorbed,  the 
commander  because  he  is  commanded,  the  assured, 
the  primary, — they  are  good ;  for  these  announce 
the  instant  presence  of  supreme  power. 

Our  action  should  rest  mathematically  on  our 
substance.  In  nature,  there  are  no  false  valuations. 
A  pound  of  water  in  the  ocean-tempest  has  no  more 
gravity  than  in  a  midsummer  pond.  All  things 
work  exactly  according  to  their  quality,  and  accord 
ing  to  their  quantity ;  attempt  nothing  they  cannot 
do,  except  man  only.  He  has  pretension :  he 
wishes  and  attempts  things  beyond  his  force.  I 
read  in  a  book  of  English  memoirs,  "  Mr.  Fox 


88  CHAR  ACT  mi 

(afterwards  Lord  Holland)  said,  he  murt  have  the 
Treasury  ;  he  had  served  up  to  it,  and  would  have  it." 
— Xenophon  and  his  Ten  Thousand  were  quite  equal 
to  what  they  attempted,  and  did  it ;  so  equal,  that  it 
was  not  suspected  to  be  a  grand  and  inimitable  ex 
ploit.  Yet  there  stands  that  fact  unrepeated,  a 
high-water-mark  in  military  history.  Many  have 
attempted  it  since,  and  not  been  equal  to  it.  It  is 
only  on  reality,  that  any  power  of  action  can  be 
based.  No  institution  will  be  better  than  the  in- 
stitutor.  I  knew  an  amiable  and  accomplished 
person  who  undertook  a  practical  reform,  yet  I  was 
never  able  to  find  in  him  the  enterprise  of  love  he 
took  in  hand.  He  adopted  it  by  ear  and  by  the 
understanding  from  the  books  he  had  been  reading. 
All  his  action  was  tentative,  a  piece  of  the  city 
carried  out  into  the  fields,  and  was  the  city  still, 
and  no  new  fact,  and  could  not  inspire  enthusiasm. 
Had  there  been  something  latent  in  the  man,  a 
terrible  undemonstrated  genius  agitating  and  em 
barrassing  his  demeanor,  we  had  watched  for  its 
advent.  It  is  not  enough  that  the  intellect  should 
see  the  evils,  and  their  remedy.  We  shall  still 
postpone  our  existence,  nor  take  the  ground  to 
which  we  are  entitled,  whilst  it  is  only  a  thought 
and  not  a  spirit  that  incites  us.  We  have  not  yet 
served  up  to  it. 

These  are  properties  of  life,  and  another  trait  is 
the  notice  of  incessant  growth.  Men  should  be  in 
telligent  and  earnest.  They  must  also  make  us  feel, 


CHARACTER.  89 

that  they  have  a  controlling  happy  future,  opening 
before  them,  which  sheds  a  splendor  on  the  passing- 
hour.  The  hero  is  misconceived  and  misreported  : 
he  cannot  therefore  wait  to  unravel  any  man's 
blunders:  he  is  again  on  his  road,  adding  new 
powers  and  honors  to  his  domain,  and  new  claims 
on  your  heart,  which  will  bankrupt  you,  if  you  have 
loitered  about  the  old  things,  and  have  not  kept 
your  relation  to  him,  by  adding  to  your  wealth. 
New  actions  are  the  only  apologies  and  explana 
tions  of  old  ones,  which  the  noble  can  bear  to  offer 
or  to  receive.  If  your  friend  has  displeased  you, 
you  shall  not  sit  down  to  consider  it,  for  he  has  al 
ready  lost  all  memory  of  the  passage,  and  has 
doubled  his  power  to  serve  you,  and,  ere  you  can 
rise  up  again,  will  burden  you  with  blessings. 

We  have  no  pleasure  in  thinking  of  a  benevo 
lence  that  is  only  measured  by  its  works.  Love  is 
inexhaustible,  and  if  its  estate  is  wasted,  its  granary 
emptied,  still  cheers  and  enriches,  and  the  man, 
though  he  sleep,  seems  to  purify  the  air,  and  his 
house  to  adorn  the  landscape  and  strengthen  the 
laws.  People  always  recognize  this  difference. 
We  know  who  is  benevolent,  by  quite  other  means 
than  the  amount  of  subscription  to  soup-societies. 
It  is  only  low  merits  that  can  be  enumerated.  Fear, 
when  your  friends  say  to  you  what  you  have  done 
well,  and  say  it  through  ;  but  when  they  stand  with 
uncertain  timid  looks  of  respect  and  half-dislike, 
and  must  suspend  their  judgment  for  years  to  come, 


90  CHARACTER. 

you  may  begin  to  hope.  Those  who  live  to  the 
future  must  always  appear  selfish  to  those  who  live 
to  the  present.  Therefore  it  was  droll  in  the  good 
Kleiner,  who  has  written  memoirs  of  Goethe,  to 
make  out  a  list  of  his  donations  and  good  deeds,  as, 
so  many  hundred  thalers  given  to  Stilling,  to  Hegel, 
to  Tischbein  :  a  lucrative  place  found  for  Professor 
Voss,  a  post  under  the  Grand  Duke  for  Herder,  a 
pension  for  Meyer,  two  professors  recommended  to 
foreign  universities,  &c.,  &c.  The  longest  list  of 
specifications  of  benefit,  would  look  very  short.  A 
man  is  a  poor  creature,  if  he  is  to  be  measured  so. 
For,  all  these,  of  course,  are  exceptions ;  and  the 
rule  and  hodiernal  life  of  a  good  man  is  benefac 
tion.  The  true  charity  of  Goethe  is  to  be  inferred 
from  the  account  he  gave  Dr.  Eckermann,  of  the 
way  in  which  he  had  spent  his  fortune.  "  Each 
bon-  mot  of  mine  has  cost  a  purse  of  gold.  Half  a 
million  of  my  own  money,  the  fortune  I  inherited, 
my  salary,  and  the  large  income  derived  from  my 
writings  for  fifty  years  back,  have  been  expended 
to  instruct  me  in  what  I  now  know.  I  have  be 
sides  seen,"  &c. 

I  own  it  is  but  poor  chat  and  gossip  to  go  to 
enumerate  traits  of  this  simple  and  rapid  power, 
and  we  are  painting  the  lightning  with  charcoal ; 
but  in  these  long  nights  and  vacations,  I  like  to 
console  myself  so.  ^Nothing  but  itself  can  copy  it. 
A  word  warm  from  the  heart  enriches  me.  I  sur 
render  at  discretion.  How  death -cold  is  literary 


CHARACTER.  91 

genius  before  this  fire  of  life !  These  are  the 
touches  that  reanimate  my  heavy  soul,  and  give  it 
eyes  to  pierce  the  dark  of  nature.  I  find,  where  I 
thought  myself  poor,  there  was  I  most  rich.  Thence 
comes  a  new  intellectual  exaltation,  to  be  again  re 
buked  by  some  new  exhibition  of  character.  Strange 
alternation  of  attraction  and  repulsion  !  Character 
repudiates  intellect,  yet  excites  it ;  and  character 
passes  into  thought,  is  published  so,  and  then  is 
ashamed  before  new  flashes  of  moral  worth. 

Character  is  nature  in  the  highest  form.  It  is  of 
no  use  to  ape  it,  or  to  contend  with  it.  Somewhat 
is  possible  of  resistance,  and  of  persistence,  and  of 
creation,  to  this  power,  which  will  foil  all  emula 
tion. 

This  masterpiece  is  best  where  no  hands  but  nat 
ure's  have  been  laid  on  it.  Care  is  taken  that  the 
greatly  destined  shall  slip  up  into  life  in  the  shade, 
with  no  thousand-eyed  Athens  to  watch  and  blazon 
every  new  thought,  every  blushing  emotion  of 
young  genius.  Two  persons  lately, — very  young 
children  of  the  most  high  God, — have  given  me  oc 
casion  for  thought.  When  I  explored  the  source  of 
their  sanctity,  and  charm  for  the  imagination,  it 
seemed  as  if  each  answered,  "  From  my  non-con 
formity  :  I  never  listened  to  your  people's  law,  or 
to  what  they  call  their  gospel,  and  wasted  my  time. 
I  was  content  with  the  simple  rural  poverty  of  my 
own ;  hence  this  sweetness :  my  work  never  re 
minds  you  of  that ; — is  pure  of  that."  And  nature 


92  CHARACTER. 

advertises  me  in  such  persons,  that,  in  democratic 
America,  she  will  not  be  democratized.  How  clois 
tered  and  constitutionally  sequestered  from  the 
market  and  from  scandal !  It  was  only  this  morn 
ing,  that  I  sent  away  some  wild  flowers  of  these 
wood -gods.  They  are  a  relief  from  literature,— 
these  fresh  draughts  from  the  sources  of  thought 
and  sentiment;  as  we  read,  in  an  age  of  polish  arid 
criticism,  the  first  lines  of  written  prose  and  verse 
of  a  nation.  How  captivating  is  their  devotion  to 
their  favorite  books,  whether  JEschylus,  Dante, 
Shakspeare,  or  Scott,  as  feeling  that  they  have  a  stake 
in  that  book:  who  touches  that,  touches  them; — 
and  especially  the  total  solitude  of  the  critic,  the 
Patmos  of  thought  from  which  he  writes,  in  uncon 
sciousness  of  any  eyes  that  shall  ever  read  this 
writing.  Could  they  dream  on  still,  as  angels,  and 
not  wake  to  comparisons,  and  to  be  flattered  !  Yet 
some  natures  are  too  good  to  be  spoiled  by  praise, 
and  wherever  the  vein  of  thought  reaches  down 
into  the  profound,  there  is  no  danger  from  vanity. 
Solemn  friends  will  warn  them  of  the  danger  of  the 
head's  being  turned  by  the  flourish  of  trumpets,  but 
they  can  afford  to  smile.  I  remember  the  indigna 
tion  of  an  eloquent  Methodist  at  the  kind  admoni 
tions  of  a  Doctor  of  Divinity, — "  My  friend,  a  man 
can  neither  be  praised  nor  insulted."  But  forgive 
the  counsels ;  they  are  very  natural.  I  remember 
the  thought  which  occurred  to  me  when  some  in 
genious  and  spiritual  foreigners  came  to  America, 


CHARACTER.  93 

was,  Have  you  been  victimized  in  being  brought 
hither  ? — or,  prior  to  that,  answer  me  this,  "  Are 
you  victimizable  ? " 

As  I  have  said,  nature  keeps  these  sovereignties 
in  her  own  hands,  and  however  pertly  our  sermons 
and  disciplines  would  divide  some  share  of  credit, 
and  teach  that  the  laws  fashion  the  citizen,  she  goes 
her  own  gait,  and  puts  the  wisest  in  the  wrong. 
She  makes  very  light  of  gospels  and  prophets,  as 
one  who  has  a  great  many  more  to  produce,  and  no 
excess  of  time  to  spare  on  any  one.  There  is  a  class 
of  men,  individuals  of  which  appear  at  long  inter 
vals,  so  eminently  endowed  witli  insight  and  virtue, 
that  they  have  been  unanimously  saluted  as  divine, 
and  who  seem  to  be  an  accumulation  of  that  power 
we  consider.  Divine  persons  are  character  born,  or, 
to  borrow  a  phrase  from  Napoleon,  they  are  victory 
organized.  They  are  usually  received  with  ill-will, 
because  they  are  new,  and  because  they  set  a  bound 
to  the  exaggeration  that  has  been  made  of  the  per 
sonality  of  the  last  divine  person.  Nature  never 
rhymes  her  children,  nor  makes  two  men  alike. 
When  we  see  a  great  man,  we  fancy  a  resemblance 
to  some  historical  person,  and  predict  the  sequel  of 
his  character  and  fortune,  a  result  which  he  is  sure 
to  disappoint.  None  will  ever  solve  the  problem  of 
his  character  according  to  our  prejudice,  but  only  in 
his  own  high  unprecedented  way.  Character  wants 
room  ;  must  not  be  crowded  on  by  persons,  nor  be 
judged  from  glimpses  got  in  the  press  of  affairs  or 


94:  CHARACTER. 

on  few  occasions.  It  needs  perspective,  as  a  great 
building.  It  may  not,  probably  does  not,  form  re 
lations  rapidly  ;  and  we  should  not  require  rash  ex 
planation,  either  on  the  popular  ethics,  or  on  our  own, 
of  its  action. 

I  look  on  Sculpture  as  history.  I  do  not  think  the 
Apollo  and  the  Jove  impossible  in  flesh  and  blood. 
Every  trait  which  the  artist  recorded  in  stone,  he 
had  seen  in  life,  and  better  than  his  copy.  We 
have  seen  many  counterfeits,  but  we  are  born  believ 
ers  in  great  men.  How  easily  we  read  in  old  books, 
when  men  were  few,  of  the  smallest  action  of  the 
patriarchs.  "We  require  that  a  man  should  be  so 
large  and  columnar  in  the  landscape,  that  it  should 
deserve  to  be  recorded,  that  he  arose,  and  girded  up 
his  loins,  and  departed  to  such  a  place.  The  most 
credible  pictures  are  those  of  majestic  men  who  pre 
vailed  at  their  entrance,  and  convinced  the  senses; 
as  happened  to  the  eastern  magian  who  was  sent  to 
test  the  merits  of  Zertusht  or  Zoroaster.  When  the 
Yunani  sage  arrived  at  Balkh,  the  Persians  tell  us, 
Gnshtasp  appointed  a  day  on  which  the  mobeds  of 
every  country  should  assemble,  and  a  golden  chair 
was  placed  for  the  Yunani  sage.  Then  the  beloved 
of  Yezdam,  the  prophet  Zertusht,  advanced  into  the 
midst  of  the  assembly.  The  Yunani  sage,  on  see 
ing  that  chief,  said,  "  This  form  and  this  gait  cannot 
lie,  and  nothing  but  truth  can  proceed  from  them." 
Plato  said,  it  was  impossible  not  to  believe  in  the 
children  of  the  gods,  "  though  they  should  speak 


CHARACTER.  95 

without  probable  or  necessary  arguments."  I  should 
think  myself  very  unhappy  in  my  associates,  if  I 
could  not  credit  the  best  things  in  history.  "  John 
Bradshaw,"  says  Milton,  "  appears  like  a  consul, 
from  whom  the  fasces  are  not  to  depart  with  the 
year ;  so  that  not  on  the  tribunal  only  but  through 
out  his  life,  you  would  regard  him  as  sitting  in 
judgment  upon  kings."  I  find  it  more  credible, 
since  it  is  anterior  information,  that  one  man  should 
know  heaven,  as  the  Chinese  say,  than  that  so  many 
men  should  know  the  world.  "  The  virtuous  prince 
confronts  the  gods,  without  any  misgiving.  He 
waits  a  hundred  ages  till  a  sage  comes,  and  does 
not  doubt.  He  who  confronts  the  gods,  without  any 
misgiving,  knows  heaven  ;  he  who  waits  a  hundred 
ages  until  a  sage  comes,  without  doubting,  knows 
men.  Hence  the  virtuous  prince  moves,  and  for 
ages  shows  empire  the  way."  But  there  is  no  need 
to  seek  remote  examples.  He  is  a  dull  observer 
whose  experience  has  not  taught  him  the  reality  and 
force  of  magic,  as  well  as  of  chemistry.  The  cold 
est  precisian  cannot  go  abroad  without  encountering 
inexplicable  influences.  One  man  fastens  an  eye  on 
him,  and  the  graves  of  the  memory  render  up  their 
dead  ;  the  secrets  that  make  him  wretched  either  to 
keep  or  to  betray,  must  be  yielded  ; — another,  and 
he  cannot  speak,  and  the  bones  of  his  body  seem  to 
lose  their  cartilages  ;  the  entrance  of  a  friend  adds 
grace,  boldness,  and  eloquence  to  him  ;  and  there 
are  persons,  he  cannot  choose  but  remember,  who 


96  CHARACTER. 

gave  a  transcendant  expansion  to  his  thought,  and 
kindled  another  life  in  his  bosom. 

What  is  so  excellent  as  strict  relations  of  amity, 
when  they  spring  from  this  deep  root  ?  The  suf 
ficient  reply  to  the  sceptic,  who  doubts  the  power 
and  the  furniture  of  man,  is  in  that  possibility  of 
joyful  intercourse  with  persons,  which  makes  the 
faith  and  practice  of  all  reasonable  men.  I  know 
nothing  which  life  has  to  offer  so  satisfying  as  the 
profound  good  understanding,  which  can  subsist, 
after  much  exchange  of  good  offices,  between  two 
virtuous  men,  each  of  whom  is  sure  of  himself,  and 
sure  of  his  friend.  It  is  a  happiness  which  post 
pones  all  other  gratifications,  and  makes  politics, 
and  commerce,  and  churches,  cheap.  For,  when 
men  shall  meet  as  they  ought,  each  a  benefactor,  a 
shower  of  stars,  clothed  with  thoughts,  with  deeds, 
with  accomplishments,  it  should  be  the  festival  of 
nature  which  all  things  announce.  Of  such  friend 
ship,  love  in  the  sexes  is  the  first  symbol,  as  all 
other  things  are  symbols  of  love.  Those  relations 
to  the  best  men,  which,  at  one  time,  we  reckoned 
the  romances  of  youth,  become,  in  the  progress  of 
the  character,  the  most  solid  enjoyment. 

If  it  were  possible  to  live  in  right  relations  with 
men  ! — if  we  could  abstain  from  asking  anything 
of  them,  from  asking  their  praise,  or  help,  or  pity, 
and  content  us  with  compelling  them  through  the 
virtue  of  the  eldest  laws  !  Could  we  not  deal  with 
a  few  persons, — with  one  person, — after  the  un- 


CHARACTER.  97 

written  statutes,  and  make  an  experiment  of  their 
efficacy  ?  Could  we  not  pay  our  friend  the  com 
pliment  of  truth,  of  silence,  of  forbearing  ?  Xeed 
we  be  so  eager  to  seek  him  ?  If  we  are  related,  we 
shall  meet.  It  was  a  tradition  of  the  ancient  world, 
that  no  metamorphosis  could  hide  a  god  from  a 
god  ;  and  there  is  a  Greek  verse  which  runs, 

"  The  Gods  are  to  each  other  not  unknown." 

Friends  also  follow  the  laws  of  divine  necessity  ; 
they  gravitate  to  each  other,  and  cannot  other 
wise  : — 

When  each  the  other  shall  avoid 
Shall  each  by  each  be  most  enjoyed. 

Their  relation  is  not  made,  but  allowed.  The  gods 
must  seat  themselves  without  seneschal  in  our 
Olympus,  and  as  they  can  install  themselves  by 
seniority  divine.  Society  is  spoiled  if  pains  are 
taken,  if  the  associates  are  brought  a  mile  to  meet. 
And  if  it  be  not  society,  it  is  a  mischievous,  low, 
degrading  jangle,  though  made  up  of  the  best.  All 
the  greatness  of  each  is  kept  back,  and  every  foibie 
in  painful  activity,  as  if  the  Olympians  should  meet 
to  exchange  snuff-boxes. 

Life  goes  headlong.  We  chase  some  flying 
scheme,  or  we  are  hunted  by  some  fear  or  command 
behind  us.  But  if  suddenly  we  encounter  a  friend 
we  pause  ;  our  heat  and  hurry  look  foolish  enongn  ; 
now  pause,  now  possession,  is  required,  and  tne 
7 


98  CHARACTER. 

power  to  swell  the  moment  from  the  resources  of 
the  heart.  The  moment  is  all,  in  all  noble  rela 
tions. 

A  divine  person  is  the  prophecy  of  the  mind  ;  a 
friend  is  the  hope  of  the  heart.  Our  beatitude 
waits  for  the  fulfilment  of  these  two  in  one.  The 
ages  are  opening  this  moral  force.  All  force  is 
the  shadow  or  symbol  of  that.  Poetry  is  joyful  and 
strong,  as  it  draws  its  inspiration  thence.  Men 
write  their  names  on  the  world,  as  they  are  filled 
with  this.  History  has  been  mean  ;  our  nations 
have  been  mobs  ;  we  have  never  seen  a  man  :  that 
divine  form  we  do  not  yet  know,  but  only  the 
dream  and  prophecy  of  such :  we  do  not  know  the 
majestic  manners  which  belong  to  him,  which  ap 
pease  and  exalt  the  beholder.  We  shall  one  day 
see  that  the  most  private  is  the  most  public  energy, 
that  quality  atones  for  quantity,  and  grandeur  of 
character  acts  in  the  dark,  and  succors  them  who 
never  saw  it.  What  greatness  has  yet  appeared,  is 
beginnings  and  encouragements  to  us  in  this  direc 
tion.  The  history  of  those  gods  and  saints  which 
the  world  has  written,  and  then  worshipped,  are 
documents  of  character.  The  ages  have  exulted  in 
the  manners  of  a  youth  who  owed  nothing  to  for 
tune,  and  who  was  hanged  at  the  Tyburn  of  his 
nation,  who,  by  the  pure  quality  of  his  nature,  shed 
an  epic  splendor  around  the  facts  of  his  death,  which 
has  transfigured  every  particular  into  an  universal 
symbol  for  the  eyes  of  mankind.  This  great  de- 


CHARACTER.  99 

feat  is  hitherto  our  highest  fact.  But  the  mind  re 
quires  a  victory  to  the  senses,  a  force  of  character 
which  will  convert  judge,  jury,  soldier,  and  king; 
which  will  rule  animal  and  mineral  virtues,  and 
blend  with  the  courses  of  sap,  of  rivers,  of  winds,  of 
stars,  and  of  moral  agents. 

If  we  cannot  attain  at  a  bound  to  these  grandeurs, 
at  least,  let  us  do  them  homage.  In  society,  high 
advantages  are  set  down  to  the  possessor,  as  disad 
vantages.  It  requires  the  more  wariness  in  our 
private  estimates.  I  do  not  forgive  in  my  friends 
the  failure  to  know  a  fine  character,  and  to  entertain 
it  with  thankful  hospitality.  When  at  last,  that 
which  we  have  always  longed  for,  is  arrived,  and 
shines  on  us  with  glad  rays  out  of  that  far  celestial 
land,  then  to  be  coarse,  then  to  be  critical,  and 
treat  such  a  visitant  with  the  jabber  and  suspicion 
of  the  streets,  argues  a  vulgarity  that  seems  to  shut 
the  doors  of  heaven.  This  is  confusion,  this  the 
right  insanity,  when  the  soul  no  longer  knows  its 
own,  nor  where  its  allegiance,  its  religion,  are  due. 
Is  there  any  religion  but  this,  to  know,  that,  where- 
ever  in  the  wide  desert  of  being,  the  holy  sentiment 
we  cherish  has  opened  into  a  flower,  it  blooms  for 
me  ?  if  none  sees  it  I  see  it;  lam  aware,  if  I  alone, 
of  the  greatness  of  the  fact.  Whilst  it  blooms,  I 
will  keep  sabbath  or  holy  time,  and  suspend  my 
gloom,  and  my  folly  and  jokes.  Nature  is  indulged 
by  the  presence  of  this  guest.  There  are  many 
eyes  that  can  detect  and  honor  the  prudent  and 


100  CHARACTER. 

household  virtues ;  there  are  many  that  can  discern 
Genius  on  his  starry  track,  though  the  moh  is  in 
capable  ;  but  when  that  love  which  is  all-suffering, 
all-abstaining,  all-aspiring,  which  has  vowed  to  it 
self,  that  it  will  be  a  wretch  and  also  a  fool  in  this 
world,  sooner  than  soil  its  white  hands  by  any  com 
pliances,  comes  into  our  streets  and  houses, — only 
the  pure  and  aspiring  can  know  its  face,  and  the 
only  compliment  they  can  pay  it,  is  to  own  it. 


MANNERS. 


"  How  near  to  good  is  what  is  fair ! 
Which  we  no  sooner  see, 
But  with  the  lines  and  outward  air 
Our  senses  taken  be. 

Again  yourselves  compose, 
And  now  put  all  the  aptness  on 
Of  Figure,  that  Proportion 

Or  Color  can  disclose  ; 
That  if  those  silent  arts  were  lost, 
Design  and  Picture,  they  might  boast 

From  you  a  newer  ground, 
Instructed  by  the  heightening  sense 
Of  dignity  and  reverence 

In  their  true  motions  found.1' 

BEN  JONSON. 

HALF  the  world,  it  is  said,  knows  not  how  the 
other  half  live.  Our  Exploring  Expedition  saw  the 
Feejee  islanders  getting  their  dinner  off  human 
hones;  and  they  are  said  to  eat  their  own  wives 
and  children.  The  husbandry  of  the  modern  in 
habitants  of  Gournou  (west  of  old  Thebes)  is  philo 
sophical  to  a  fault.  To  set  up  their  housekeeping, 
nothing  is  requisite  but  two  or  three  earthen  pots/ 


102  MANNERS. 

a  stone  to  grind  meal,  and  a  mat  which  is  the  bed. 
The  house,  namely,  a  tomb,  is  ready  without  rent 
or  taxes.  No  rain  can  pass  through  the  roof,  and 
there  is  no  door,  for  there  is  no  want  of  one,  as  there 
is  nothing  to  lose.  If  the  house  do  not  please  them, 
they  walk  out  and  enter  another,  as  there  are  sev 
eral  hundreds  at  their  command.  "It  is  somewhat 
singular,"  adds  Belzoni,  to  whom  we  owe  this  ac 
count,  "  to  talk  of  happiness  among  people  who  live 
in  sepulchres,  among  the  corpses  and  rags  of  an  an 
cient  nation  which  they  know  nothing  of."  In  the 
deserts  of  Borgoo,  the  rock-Tibboos  still  dwell  in 
caves,  like  cliff-swallows,  and  the  language  of  these 
negroes  is  compared  by  their  neighbors  to  the  shriek 
ing  of  bats,  and  to  the  whistling  of  birds.  Again, 
the  Bornoos  have  no  proper  names  ;  individuals  are 
called  after  their  height,  thickness,  or  other  acci 
dental  quality,  and  have  nicknames  merely.  But 
the  salt,  the  dates,  the  ivory,  and  the  gold,  for  which 
these  horrible  regions  are  visited,  find  their  way  into 
countries,  where  the  purchaser  and  consumer  can 
hardly  be  ranked  in  one  race  with  these  cannibals 
and  man-stealers  ;  countries  where  man  serves  him 
self  with  metals,  wood,  stone,  glass,  gum,  cotton, 
silk,  and  wool ;  honors  himself  with  architecture ; 
writes  laws,  and  contrives  to  execute  his  will  through 
the  hands  of  many  nations ;  and,  especially,  estab 
lishes  a  select  society,  running  through  all  the  coun 
tries  of  intelligent  men,  a  self-constituted  aristoc 
racy,  or  fraternity  of  the  best,  which,  without 


MANNERS.  103 

written  law  or  exact  usage  of  any  kind,  perpetuates 
itself,  colonizes  every  new-planted  island,  and  adopts 
and  makes  its  own  whatever  personal  beauty  or  ex 
traordinary  native  endowment  anywhere  appears. 

What  fact  more  conspicuous  in  modern  history, 
than  the  creation  of  the  gentleman  ?  Chivalry  is 
that,  and  loyalty  is  that,  and,  in  English  literature, 
half  the  drama,  and  all  the  novels,  from  Sir  Philip 
Sidney  to  Sir  Walter  Scott,  paint  this  figure.  The 
word  gentlemen,  which,  like  the  word  Christian, 
must  hereafter  characterize  the  present  and  the  few 
preceding  centuries,  by  the  importance  attached  to 
it,  is  a  homage  to  personal  and  incommunicable 
properties.  Frivolous  and  fantastic  additions  have 
got  associated  with  the  name,  but  the  steady  interest 
of  mankind  in  it  must  be  attributed  to  the  valuable 
properties  which  it  designates.  An  element  which 
unites  all  the  most  forcible  persons  of  every  country  ; 
makes  them  intelligible  and  agreeable  to  each  other, 
and  is  somewhat  so  precise,  that  it  is  at  once  felt  if 
an  individual  lack  the  masonic  sign,  cannot  be  any 
casual  product,  but  must  be  an  average  result  of  the 
character  and  faculties  universally  found  in  men. 
It  seems  a  certain  permanent  average  ;  as  the  at 
mosphere  is  a  permanent  composition,  whilst  so 
many  gases  are  combined  only  to  be  decompounded. 
Comme  il  faut,  is  the  Frenchman's  description  of 
good  society,  as  we  must  T>e.  It  is  a  spontaneous 
fruit  of  talents  and  feelings  of  precisely  that  class 
who  have  most  vigor,  who  take  the  lead  in  the 


104  MANNERS. 

world  of  this  hour,  and,  though  far  from  pure,  f*f 
from  constituting  the  gladdest  and  highest  tone  of 
human  feeling,  is  as  good  as  the  whole  society  per 
mits  it  to  be.  It  is  made  of  the  spirit,  more  than 
of  the  talent  of  men,  and  is  a  compound  result,  into 
which  every  great  force  enters  as  an  ingredient, 
namely,  virtue,  wit,  beauty,  wealth,  and  power. 

There  is  something  equivocal  in  all  the  words  in 
use  to  express  the  excellence  of  manners  and  social 
cultivation,  because  the  quantities- are  fluxional,  and 
the  last  effect  is  assumed  by  the  senses  as  the  cause. 
The  word  gentleman  has  not  any  correlative  abstract 
to  express  the  quality.  Gentility  is  mean,  and  gen- 
tilesse  is  obsolete.  But  we  must  keep  alive  in  the 
vernacular,  the  distinction  bet  ween  fashion,  a  word 
of  narrow  and  often  sinister  meaning,  and  the 
heroic  character  which  the  gentleman  imports. 
The  usual  words,  however,  must  be  respected  :  they 
will  be  found  to  contain  the  root  of  the  matter. 
The  point  of  distinction  in  all  this  class  of  names, 
as  courtesy,  chivalry,  fashion,  and  the  like,  is,  that 
the  flower  and  fruit,  not  the  grain  of  the  tree,  are 
contemplated.  It  is  beauty  which  is  the  aim  this 
time,  and  not  worth.  The  result  is  now  in  ques 
tion,  although  our  words  intimate  well  enough  the 
popular  feeling,  that  the  appearance  supposes  a  sub 
stance.  The  gentleman  is  a  man  of  truth,  lord  of 
his  own  actions,  and  expressing  that  lordship  in  hip 
behavior,  not  in  any  manner  dependent  and  servile 
either  on  persons,  or  opinions,  or  possessions.  Be- 


MANNERS.  105 

yond  this  fact  of  truth  and  real  force,  the  word  de 
notes  good-nature  or  benevolence  ;  manhood  first, 
and  then  gentleness.  The  popular  notion  certainly 
adds  a  condition  of  ease  and  fortune  ;  but  that  is  a 
natural  result  of  personal  force  and  love,  that  they 
should  possess  and  dispense  the  goods  of  the  world. 
In  times  of  violence,  every  eminent  person  must 
fall  in  with  many  opportunities  to  approve  his 
stoutness  and  worth ;  therefore  every  man's  name 
that  emerged  at  all  from  the  mass  in  the  feudal 
ages,  rattles  in  our  ear  like  a  flourish  of  trumpets. 
But  personal  force  never  goes  out  of  fashion.  That 
is  still  paramount  to-day,  and,  in  the  moving  crowd 
of  good  society,  the  men  of  valor  and  reality  are 
known,  and  rise  to  their  natural  place.  The  com 
petition  is  transferred  from  war  to  politics  and 
trade,  but  the  personal  force  appears  readily  enough 
in  these  new  arenas. 

Power  first,  or  no  leading  class.  In  politics  and 
in  trade,  bruisers  and  pirates  are  of  better  promise 
than  talkers  and  clerks.  God  knows  that  all  sorts 
of  gentlemen  knock  at  the  door  ;  but  whenever 
used  in  strictness,  and  with  any  emphasis,  the  name 
will  be  found  to  point  at  original  energy.  It  de 
scribes  a  man  standing  in  his  own  right,  and  work 
ing  after  untaught  methods.  In  a  good  lord,  there 
must  first  be  a  good  animal,  at  least  to  the  extent 
of  yielding  the  incomparable  advantage  of  animal 
spirits.  The  ruling  class  must  have  more,  but  they 
must  have  these,  giving  in  every  company  the  sense 


106  MANNERS. 

of  power,  which  makes  things  easy  to  be  done  which 
daunt  the  wise.  The  society  of  the  energetic  class, 
in  their  friendly  and  festive  meetings,  is  full  of 
courage,  and  of  attempts,  which  intimidate  the  pale 
scholar.  The  courage  which  girls  exhibit  is  like 
a  battle  of  Lundy's  Lane,  or  a  sea  fight.  The  in 
tellect  relies  on  memory  to  make  some  supplies  to 
face  these  extemporaneous  squadrons.  But  mem 
ory  is  a  base  mendicant  with  basket  and  badge, 
in  the  presence  of  these  sudden  masters.  The 
rulers  of  society  must  be  up  to  the  work  of 
the  world,  and  equal  to  their  versatile  office : 
men  of  the  right  Caesarian  pattern,-  who  have 
great  range  of  affinity.  I  am  far  from  believing 
the  timid  maxim  of  Lord  Falkland,  ("  that  for 
ceremony  there  must  go  two  to  it ;  since  a  bold 
fellow  will  go  through  the  cunningest  forms,")  and 
am  of  opinion  that  the  gentleman  is  the  bold  fellow 
whose  forms  are  not  to  be  broken  through  ;  and 
only  that  plenteous  nature  is  rightful  master,  which 
is  the  complement  of  whatever  person  it  converses 
with.  My  gentleman  gives  the  law  where  he  is  ;  he 
will  outpray  saints  in  chapel,  outgeneral  veterans  in 
the  field,  and  outshine  all  courtesy  in  the  hall.  He 
is  good  company  for  pirates,  and  good  with  aca 
demicians  ;  so  that  it  is  useless  to  fortify  yourself 
against  him  ;  he  has  the  private  entrance  to  all 
minds,  and  I  could  as  easily  exclude  myself,  as  him. 
The  famous  gentlemen  of  Asia  and  Europe  have 
been  of  this  strong  type  ;  Saladin,  Sapor,  the  Cid, 


MANNERS.  107 

Julius  Caesar,  Scipio,  Alexander,  Pericles,  and  the 
lordliest  personages.  They  sat  very  carelessly  in 
their  chairs,  and  were  too  excellent  themselves  to 
value  any  condition  at  a  high  rate. 

A  plentiful  fortune  is  reckoned  necessary,  in  the 
popular  judgment,  to  the  completion  of  this  man  of 
the  world  :  and  it  is  a  material  deputy  which  walks 
through  the  dance  which  the  first  has  led.  Money 
is  not  essential,  but  this  wide  affinity  is,  which 
transcends  the  habits  of  clique  and  caste,  and  makes 
itself  felt  by  men  of  all  classes.  If  the  aristocrat 
is  only  valid  in  fashionable  circles,  and  not  with 
truckmen,  he  will  never  be  a  leader  in  fashion  ; 
and  if  the  man  of  the  people  cannot  speak  on  equal 
terms  with  the  gentleman,  so  that  the  gentleman 
shall  perceive  that  he  is  already  really  of  his  own 
order,  he  is  not  to  be  feared.  Diogenes,  Socrates, 
and  Epaminondas,  are  gentlemen  of  the  best  blood, 
who  have  chosen  the  condition  of  poverty,  when 
that  of  wealth  was  equally  open  to  them.  I  use 
these  old  names,  but  the  men  I  speak  of  are  my 
contemporaries.  Fortune  will  not  supply  to  every 
generation  one  of  these  well-appointed  knights,  but 
every  collection  of  men  furnishes  some  example  of 
the  class  :  and  the  politics  of  this  country,  and  the 
trade  of  every  town,  are  controlled  by  these  hardy 
and  irresponsible  doers,  who  have  invention  to  take 
the  lead,  and  a  broad  sympathy  which  puts  them 
in  fellowship  with  crowds,  and  makes  their  action 
popular. 


108  MANNER8. 

The  manners  of  this  class  are  observed  and 
caught  with  devotion  by  men  of  taste.  The  associ 
ation  of  these  masters  with  each  other,  and  with 
men  intelligent  of  their  merits,  is  mutually  agree 
able  and  stimulating.  The  good  forms,  the  happi 
est  expressions  of  each,  are  repeated  and  adopted. 
By  swift  consent,  everything  superfluous  is  dropped, 
everything  graceful  is  renewed.  Fine  manners 
show  themselves  formidable  to  the  uncultivated 
man.  They  are  a  subtler  science  of  defence  to 
parry  and  intimidate ;  but  once  matched  by  the 
skill  of  the  other  party,  they  drop  the  point  of  the 
sword, — points  and  fences  disappear,  and  the  youth 
finds  himself  in  a  more  transparent  atmosphere, 
wherein  life  is  a  less  troublesome  game,  and  not  a 
misunderstanding  rises  between  the  players.  Man 
ners  aim  to  facilitate  life,  to  get  rid  of  impedi 
ments,  and  bring  the  man  pure  to  energize.  They 
aid  our  dealing  and  conversation,  as  a  railway  aids 
travelling,  by  getting  rid  of  all  avoidable  obstruc 
tions  of  the  road,  and  leaving  nothing  to  be  con 
quered  but  pure  space.  These  forms  very  soon  be 
come  fixed,  and  a  fine  sense  of  propriety  is  culti 
vated  with  the  more  heed,  that  it  becomes  a  badge 
of  social  and  civil  distinction.  Thus  grows  up 
Fashion,  an  equivocal  semblance,  the  most  puis 
sant,  the  most  fantastic  and  frivolous,  the  most 
feared  and  followed,  and  which  morals  and  violence 
assault  in  vain. 

There  exists  a  strict  relation  between  the  class  of 


MANNERS.  109 

power,  and  the  exclusive  and  polished  circles.  The 
last  are  always  filled  or  filling  from  the  first.  The 
strong  men  usually  give  some  allowance  even  to  the 
petulances  of  fashion,  for  that  affinity  they  find  in 
it.  Napoleon,  child  of  the  revolution,  destroyer  of 
the  old  noblesse,  never  ceased  to  court  the  Faubourg 
St.  Germain  :  doubtless  with  the  feeling,  that  fash  ion 
is  a  homage  to  men  of  his  stamp.  Fashion",  though 
in  a  strange  way,  represents  all  manly  virtue.  It  is 
virtue  gone  to  seed:  it  is  a  kind  of  posthumous 
honor.  It  does  not  often  caress  the  great,  but  the 
children  of  the  great :  it  is  a  hall  of  the  Past.  It 
usually  sets  its  face  against  the  great  of  this  hour. 
Great  men  are  not  commonly  in  its  halls :  they  are 
absent  in  the  field  :  they  are  working,  not  triumph 
ing.  Fashion  is  made  up  of  their  children ;  of  those, 
who,  through  the  value  and  virtue  of  somebody, 
have  acquired  lustre  to  their  name,  marks  of  distinc 
tion,  means  of  cultivation  and  generosity,  and,  in 
their  physical  organization,  a  certain  health  and  ex 
cellence,  which  secures  to  them,  if  not  the  highest 
power  to  work,  yet  high  power  to  enjoy.  The  class 
of  power,  the  working  heroes,  the  Cortez,  the  kel 
son,  the  Napoleon,  see  that  this  is  the  festivity  and 
permanent  celebration  of  such  as  they  ;  that  fashion 
is  funded  talent ;  is  Mexico,  Marengo,  and  Trafal 
gar  beaten  out  thin ;  that  the  brilliant  names  of 
fashion  run  back  to  just  such  busy  names  as  their 
own,  fifty  or  sixty  years  ago.  They  are  the  sowers, 
their  sons  shall  be  the  reapers,  and  their  sons,  in  the 


110  MANNERS. 

ordinary  course  of  things,  must  yield  the  possession 
of  the  harvest  to  new  competitors  with  keener  eyes 
and  stronger  frames.  The  city  is  recruited  from  the 
country.  In  the  year  1805,  it  is  said,  every  legiti 
mate  monarch  in  Europe  was  imbecile.  The  city 
would  have  died  out,  rotted,  and  exploded  long  ago, 
but  that  it  was  reinforced  from  the  fields.  It  is  only 
country  which  came  to  town  day  before  yesterday, 
that  s  city  and  court  to-day. 

Aristocracy  and  fashion  are  certain  inevitable  re 
sults.  These  mutual  selections  are  indestructible. 
If  they  provoke  anger  in  the  least  favored  class,  and 
the  excluded  majority  revenge  themselves  on  the  ex 
cluding  minority,  by  the  strong  hand,  and  kill  them, 
at  once  a  new  class  finds  itself  at  the  top,  as  certainly 
as  cream  rises  in  a  bowl  of  milk :  and  if  the  people 
should  destroy  class  after  class,  until  two  men  only 
were  left,  one  of  these  would  be  the  leader,  and 
would  be  involuntarily  served  and  copied  by  the 
other.  You  may  keep  this  minority  out  of  sight 
and  out  of  mind,  but  it  is  tenacious  of  lif^  and  is 
one  of  the  estates  of  the  realm.  I  am  the  more 
struck  with  this  tenacity,  when  I  see  its  wo/k.  It 
respects  the  administration  of  such  unimportant 
matters,  that  we  should  not  look  for  any  durability 
in  its  rule.  We  sometimes  meet  men  under  some 
strong  moral  influence,  as,  a  patriotic,  a  literary,  a 
religious  movement,  and  feel  that  the  moral  senti 
ment  rules  man  arid  nature.  "We  think  all  other 
distinctions  and  ties  will  be  slight  and  fugitive,  this 


MANNERS.  Ill 

of  caste  or  fashion,  for  example  ;  yet  come  from 
year  to  year,  and  see  how  permanent  that  is,  in  this 
Boston  or  New  York  life  of  man,  where,  too,  it  has 
not  the  least  countenance  from  the  law  of  the  land. 
Not  in  Egypt  or  in  India  a  firmer  or  more  impas 
sable  line.  Here  are  associations  whose  ties  go  over, 
and  under,  and  through  it,  a  meeting  of  merchants, 
a  military  corps,  a  college-class,  a  fire-club,  a  pro 
fessional  association,  a  political,  a  religious  conven 
tion  ; — the  persons  seem  to  draw  inseparably  near  ; 
yet,  that  assembly  once  dispersed,  its  members  will 
not  in  the  year  meet  again.  Each  returns  to  his 
degree  in  the  scale  of  good  society,  porcelain  remains 
porcelain,  and  earthen  earthen.  The  objects  of 
fashion  may  be  frivolous,  or  fashion  may  be  object 
less,  but  the  nature  of  this  union  and  selection  can 
be  neither  frivolous  nor  accidental.  Each  man's 
rank  in  that  perfect  graduation  depends  on  some 
symmetry  in  his  structure,  or  some  agreement  in  his 
structure  to  the  symmetry  of  society.  Its  doors  un 
bar  instantaneously  to  a  natural  claim  of  their  own 
kind.  A  natural  gentleman  finds  his  way  in,  and 
will  keep  the  oldest  patrician  out,  who  has  lost  his 
intrinsic  rank.  Fashion  understands  itself ;  good- 
breeding  and  personal  superiority  of  whatever  coun 
try  readily  fraternize  with  those  of  every  other. 
The  chiefs  of  savage  tribes  have  distinguished  them 
selves  in  London  and  Paris,  by  the  purity  of  their 
to  urn  u re. 

To  say  what  good  of  fashion  we  can, — it  rests  on 


112  MANNERS. 

reality,  and  hates  nothing  so  much  as  pretenders ; — 
to  exclude  and  mystify  pretenders,  and  send  them 
into  everlasting  "  Coventry,"  is  its  delight.  We 
contemn,  in  turn,  every  other  gift  of  men  of  the 
world ;  but  the  habit  even  in  little  and  the  least 
matters,  of  not  appealing  to  any  but  our  own  sense 
of  propriety,  constitutes  the  foundation  of  all 
chivalry.  There  is  almost  no  kind  of  self-reliance, 
so  it  be  sane  and  proportioned,  which  fashion  does 
not  occasionally  adopt,  and  give  it  the  freedom  of 
its  saloons.  A  sainted  soul  is  always  elegant,  and, 
if  it  will,  passes  unchallenged  into  the  most  guarded 
ring.  But  so  will  Jock  the  teamster  pass,  in  some 
crisis  that  brings  him  thither,  and  find  favor,  as 
long  as  his  head  is  not  giddy  with  the  new  circum 
stance,  and  the  iron  shoes  do  not  wish  to  dance  in 
waltzes  and  cotillons.  For  there  is  nothing  settled 
in  manners,  but  the  laws  of  behavior  yield  to  the 
energy  of  the  individual.  The  maiden  at  her  first 
ball,  the  countryman  at  a  city  dinner,  believes  that 
there  is  a  ritual  according  to  which  every  act  and 
compliment  must  be  performed,  or  the  failing  party 
must  be  cast  out  of  this  presence.  Later,  they 
learn  that  good  sense  and  character  make  their 
own  forms  every  moment,  and  speak  or  abstain, 
take  wine  or  refuse  it,  stay  or  go,  sit  in  a  chair  or 
sprawl  with  children  on  the  floor,  or  stand  on  their 
head,  or  what  else  soever,  in  a  new  and  aboriginal 
way  :  and  that  strong  will  is  always  in  fashion,  let 
who  will  be  unfashionable.  All  that  fashion  de- 


MANNERS.  113 

mands  is  composure,  and  self -content.  A  circle  of 
men  perfectly  well-bred  would  be  a  company  of 
sensible  persons,  in  which  every  man's  native  man 
ners  and  character  appeared.  If  the  fashionist 
have  not  this  quality,  he  is  nothing.  We  are  such 
lovers  of  self-reliance,  that  we  excuse  in  a  man 
many  sins,  if  he  will  show  us  a  complete  satisfaction 
in  his  position,  which  asks  no  leave  to  be,  of  mine, 
or  any  man's  good  opinion.  But  any  deference  to 
some  eminent  man  or  woman  of  the  world,  forfeits 
all  privilege  of  nobility.  He  is  an  underling :  I 
have  nothing  to  do  with  him ;  I  will  speak  with 
his  master.  A  man  should  not  go  where  he  cannot 
carry  his  whole  sphere  or  society  with  him, — not 
bodily,  the  whole  circle  of  his  friends,  but  atmos 
pherically.  He  should  preserve  in  a  new  company 
the  same  attitude  of  mind  and  reality  of  relation, 
which  his  daily  associates  draw  him  to,  else  he  is 
shorn  of  his  best  beams,  and  will  be  an  orphan  in 
the  merriest  club.  "If  you  could  see  Yich  Ian 

Vohr  with  his  tail  on  ! "     But  Yich  Ian  Vohr 

must  always  carry  his  belongings  in  some  fashion, 
if  not  added  as  honor,  then  severed  as  disgrace. 

There  will  always  be  in  society  certain  persons 
who  are  mercuries  of  its  approbation,  and  whose 
glance  will  at  any  time  determine  for  the  curious 
their  standing  in  the  world.  These  are  the  cham 
berlains  of  the  lesser  gods.  Accept  their  coldness 
as  an  omen  of  grace  with  the  loftier  deities,  and  al 
low  them  all  their  privilege.  They  are  clear  in 


114:  MANNERS. 

their  office,  nor  could  they  be  thus  formidable,  with 
out  their  own  merits.  But  do  not  measure  the  im 
portance  of  this  class  by  their  pretension,  or  ima 
gine  that  a  fop  can  be  the  dispenser  of  honor  and 
shame.  They  pass  also  at  their  just  rate;  for  how 
can  they  otherwise,  in  circles  which  exist  as  a  sort 
of  herald's  office  for  the  sifting  of  character  ? 

As  the  first  thing  man  requires  of  man,  is  reality, 
so,  that  appears  in  all  the  forms  of  society.  We 
pointedly,  and  by  name,  introduce  the  parties  to 
each  other.  Know  you  before  all  heaven  and  earth, 
that  this  is  Andrew,  and  this  is  Gregory  ; — they 
look  each  other  in  the  eye  ;  they  grasp  each  other's 
hand,  to  identify  and  signalize  each  other.  It  is  a 
great  satisfaction.  A  gentleman  never  dodges:  his 
eyes  look  straight  forward,  and  he  assures  the  other 
party,  first  of  all,  that  he  has  been  met.  For  what 
is  it  that  we  seek,  in  so  many  visits  and  hospitali 
ties?  Is  it  your  draperies,  pictures,  and  decora 
tions  ?  Or,  do  we  not  insatiably  ask,  Was  a  man  in 
the  house?  I  may  easily  go  into  a  great  household 
where  there  is  much  substance,  excellent  provision 
for  comfort,  luxury,  and  taste,  and  yet  not  encoun 
ter  there  any  Amphitryon,  who  shall  subordinate 
these  appendages.  I  may  go  into  a  cottage,  and  find 
a  farmer  who  feels  that  he  is  the  man  I  have  come 
to  see,  and  fronts  me  accordingly.  It  was  there 
fore  a  very  natural  point  of  old  feudal  etiquette. 
that  a  gentleman  who  received  a  visit,  though  it 
were  of  his  sovereign,  should  not  leave  his  roof,  but 


MANNERS.  115 

should  wait  his  arrival  at  the  door  of  his  house.  No 
house,  though  it  were  the  Tuileries,  or  the  Escu- 
rial,  is  good  for  anything  without  a  master.  And 
yet  we  are  not  often  gratified  by  this  hospitality. 
Every  body  we  know  surrounds  himself  with  a  fine 
house,  fine  books,  conservatory,  gardens,  equipage, 
and  all  manner  of  toys,  as  screens  to  interpose  be 
tween  himself  and  his  guest.  Does  it  not  seem  as 
if  man  was  of  a  very  sly,  elusive  nature,  and 
dreaded  nothing  so  much  as  a  full  rencontre  front  to 
front  with  his  fellow  ?  It  were  unmerciful,  I  know, 
quite  to  abolish  the  use  of  these  screens,  which  are 
of  eminent  convenience,  whether  the  guest  is  too 
great,  or  too  little.  We  call  together  many  friends 
who  keep  each  other  in  play,  or,  by  luxuries  and  or 
naments  we  amuse  the  young  people,  and  guard  our 
retirement.  Or  if,  perchance,  a  searching  realist 
comes  to  our  gate,  before  whose  eye  we  have  no 
care  to  stand,  then  again  we  run  to  our  curtain,  and 
hide  ourselves  as  Adam  at  the  voice  of  the  Lord  God 
in  the  garden.  Cardinal  Caprara,  the  Pope's  legate 
at  Paris,  defended  himself  from  the  glances  of 
Kapoleon,  by  an  immense  pair  of  green  spectacles. 
Xapoleon  remarked  them,  and  speedily  managed  to 
rally  them  off :  and  yet  Kapoleon,  in  his  turn,  was 
not  great  enough  with  eight  hundred  thousand 
troops  at  his  back,  to  face  a  pair  of  freeborn  eyes, 
but  fenced  himself  with  etiquette,  and  within  triple 
barriers  of  reserve :  and,  as  all  the  world  knows 
from  Madame  de  Stael,  was  wont,  when  he  found 


116  MANNERS. 

himself  observed,  to  discharge  his  face  of  all  ex 
pression.  But  emperors  and  rich  men  are  by  no 
means  the  most  skilful  masters  of  good  manners. 
No  rent-roll  nor  army-list  can  dignify  skulking  and 
dissimulation:  and  the  first  point  of  courtesy  must 
always  be  truth,  as  really  all  the  forms  of  good- 
breeding  point  that  way. 

I  have  just  been  reading,  in  Mr.  Hazlitt's  transla 
tion,  Montaigne's  account  of  his  journey  into  Italy, 
and  am  struck  with  nothing  more  agreeably  than 
the  self-respecting  fashions  of  the  time.  His  arrival 
in  each  place,  the  arrival  of  a  gentleman  of  France, 
is  an  event  of  some  consequence.  Wherever  lie 
goes,  he  pays  a  visit  to  whatever  prince  or  gentle 
man  of  note  resides  upon  his  road,  as  a  duty  to  him 
self  and  to  civilization.  When  he  leaves  any  house 
in  which  he  has  lodged  for  a  few  weeks,  he  causes 
his  arms  to  be  painted  and  hung  up  as  a  perpetual 
sign  to  the  house,  as  was  the  custom  of  gentlemen. 

The  complement  of  this  graceful  self-respect,  and 
that  of  all  the  points  of  good  breeding  I  most  re 
quire  and  insist  upon,  is  deference.  I  like  that 
every  chair  should  be  a  throne,  and  hold  a  king.  I 
prefer  a  tendency  to  stateliness,  to  an  excess  of  fel 
lowship.  Let  the  incommunicable  objects  of  nature 
and  the  metaphysical  isolation  of  man  teach  us  inde 
pendence.  Let  us  not  be  too  much  acquainted.  I 
would  have  a  man  enter  his  house  through  a  hall 

o 

filled  with  heroic  and  sacred  sculptures,  that  he 
might  not  want  the  hint  of  tranquillity  and  self- 


MANNERS.  117 

poise.  We  should  meet  each  morning,  as  from  for 
eign  countries,  and  spending  the  day  together,  should 
depart  at  night,  as  into  foreign  countries.  In  all 
things  I  would  have  the  island  of  a  man  inviolate. 

O 

Let  us  sit  apart  as  the  gods,  talking  from  peak  to 
peak  all  round  Olympus.  No  degree  of  affection 
need  invade  this  religion.  This  is  myrrh  and  rose 
mary  to  keep  the  other  sweet.  Lovers  should  guard 
their  strangeness.  If  they  forgive  too  much,  all 
slides  into  confusion  and  meanness.  It  is  easy  to 
push  this  deference  to  a  Chinese  etiquette  ;  but  cool 
ness  and  absence  of  heat  and  haste  indicate  fine 
qualities.  A  gentleman  makes  no  noise:  a  lady  is 
serene.  Proportionate  is  our  disgust  at  those  in 
vaders  who  fill  a  studious  house  with  blast  and  run 
ning,  to  secure  some  paltry  convenience.  Not  less 
I  dislike  a  low  sympathy  of  each  with  his  neighbor's 
needs.  Must  we  have  a  good  understanding  with 
one  another's  palates?  as  foolish  people  who  have 
lived  long  together,  know  when  each  wants  salt  or 
sugar.  I  pray  my  companion,  if  he  wishes  for 
bread,  to  ask  me  for  bread,  and  if  he  wishes  for  sas 
safras  or  arsenic,  to  ask  me  for  them,  and  not  to 
hold  out  his  plate,  as  if  I  knew  alreac'y.  Every 
natural  function  can  be  dignified  by  deliberation 
and  privacy.  Let  us  leave  hurry  to  K.  ves.  The 
compliments  and  ceremonies  of  our  breeding  should 
signify,  however  remotely,  the  recollection  of  the 
grandeur  of  our  destiny. 

The  flower  of  courtesy  does   not  very  well  bide 


118  MANNERS. 

handling,  but  if  we  dare  to  open  another  leaf,  and 
explore  what  parts  go  to  its  conformation,  we  shall 
find  also  an  intellectual  quality.  To  the  leaders  of 
men,  the  brain  as  well  as  the  flesh  and  the  heart 
must  furnish  a  proportion.  Defect  in  manners  is 
usually  the  defect  of  fine  perceptions.  Men  are  too 
coarsely  made  for  the  delicacy  of  beautiful  carriage 
and  customs.  It  is  not  quite  sufficient  to  good 
breeding,  a  union  of  kindness  and  independence. 
We  imperatively  require  a  perception  of,  and  a  hom 
age  to  beauty  in  our  companions.  Other  virtues 
are  in  request  in  the  field  and  workyard,  but  a  cer 
tain  degree  of  taste  is  not  to  be  spared  in  those  we 
sit  with.  I  could  better  eat  with  one  who  did  not 
respect  the  truth  or  the  laws,  than  with  a  sloven 
and  unpresentable  person.  Moral  qualities  rule  the 
world,  but  at  short  distances,  the  senses  are  des 
potic.  The  same  discrimination  of  fit  and  fair  runs 
out,  if  with  less  rigor,  into  all  parts  of  life.  The 
average  spirit  of  the  energetic  class  is  good  sense, 
acting  under  certain  limitations  and  to  certain  ends. 
It  entertains  every  natural  gift.  Social  in  its  nat 
ure,  it  respects  everything  which  tends  to  unite  men. 
It  delights  in  measure.  The  love  of  beauty  is  mainly" 
the  love  of  measure  or  proportion.  The  person  who 
screams,  or  uses  the  superlative  degree,  or  converses 
with  heat,  puts  whole  drawing-rooms  to  flight.  If 
you  wish  to  be  loved,  love  measure.  You  must 
have  genius,  or  a  prodigious  usefulness,  if  you  will 
hide  the  want  of  measure.  This  perception  comes 


MANNERS.  110 

in  to  polish  and  perfect  the  parts  of  the  social  in 
struments.  Society  will  pardon  much  to  genius  and 
special  gifts,  but,  being  in  its  nature  a  convention, 
it  loves  what  is  conventional,  or  what  belongs  to  com 
ing  together.  That  makes  the  good  and  bad  of 
manners,  namely,  what  helps  or  hinders  fellowship. 
For,  fashion  is  not  good  sense  absolute,  but  relative  ; 
not  good  sense  private,  but  good  sense  entertaining 
company.  It  hates  corners  and  sharp  points  of  char 
acter,  hates  quarrelsome,  egotistical,  solitary,  and 
gloomy  people ;  hates  whatever  can  interfere  with 
total  blending  of  parties ;  whilst  it  values  all  pecu 
liarities  as  in  the  highest  degree  refreshing,  which 
can  consist  with  good  fellowship.  And  besides  the 
general  infusion  of  wit  to  heighten  civility,  the  di 
rect  splendor  of  intellectual  power  is  ever  welcome 
in  fine  society  as  the  costliest  addition  to  its  rule 
and  its  credit. 

The  dry  light  must  shine  in  to  adorn  our  festival, 
but  it  must  be  tempered  and  shaded,  or  that  will 
also  offend.  Accuracy  is  essential  to  beauty,  and 
quick  perceptions  to  politeness,  but  not  too  quick 
perceptions.  One  may  be  too  punctual  and  too 
precise.  He  must  leave  the  omniscience  of  business 
at  the  door,  when  lie  comes  into  the  palace  of 
beauty.  Society  loves  Creole  natures,  and  sleepy, 
languishing  manners,  so  that  they  cover  sense, 
grace,  and  good-will;  the  air  of  drowsy  strength, 
which  disarms  criticism  ;  perhaps  because  such  a 
person  seems  to  reserve  himself  for  the  best  of  the 


120  MANNERS. 

game,  and  not  spend  himself  on  surfaces ;  an  ignor- 
ing  eye,  which  does  not  see  the  annoyances,  shifts 
and  inconvenience,  that  cloud  the  brow  and  smoth 
er  the  voice  of  the  sensitive. 

Therefore,  besides  personal  force  and  so  much 
perception  as  constitutes  unerring  taste,  society  de 
mands  in  its  patrician  class,  another  element  already 
intimated,  which  it  significantly  terms  good-nature, 
expressing  all  degrees  of  generosity,  from  the  low 
est  willingness  and  faculty  to  oblige,  up  to  the 
heights  of  magnanimity  and  love.  Insight  we 
must  have,  or  we  shall  run  against  one  another,  and 
miss  the  way  to  our  food  ;  but  intellect  is  selfish 
and  barren.  The  secret  of  success  in  society,  is  a 
certain  heartiness  and  sympathy.  A  man  who  is 
not  happy  in  the  company,  cannot  find  any  word  in 
his  memory  that  will  fit  the  occasion.  All  his  in 
formation  is  a  little  impertinent.  A  man  who  is 
happy  there,  finds  in  every  turn  of  the  conversation 
equally  lucky  occasions  for  the  introduction  of  that 
which  he  has  to  say.  The  favorites  of  society  and 
what  it  calls  whole  souls,  are  able  men,  and  of 
more  spirit  than,  wit,  who  have  no  uncomfortable 
egotism,  but  who  exactly  fill  the  hour  and  the  com 
pany,  contented  and  contenting,  at  a  marriage  or  a 
funeral,  a  ball  or  a  jury,  a  water-party  or  a  shooting- 
match.  England,  which  is  rich  in  gentlemen,  fur 
nished,  in  the  beginning  of  the  present  century,  a 
good  model  of  that  genius  which  the  world  loves,  in 
Mr.  Fox,  who  added  to  his  great  abilities  the  most 


MANNERS.  121 

social  disposition,  and  real  love  of  men.  Parlia 
mentary  history  has  few  better  passages  than  tin? 
debate,  in  which  Burke  and  Fox  separated  in  the 
House  of  Commons ;  when  Fox  urged  on  his  old 
friend  the  claims  of  old  friendship  with  such  ten 
derness,  that  the  house  was  moved  to  tears.  An 
other  anecdote  is  so  close  to  my  matter,  that  I  must 
hazard  the  story.  A  tradesman  who  had  long 
dunned  him  for  a  note  of  three  hundred  guineas, 
found  him  one  day  counting  gold,  and  demanded 
payment :  "  No,"  said  Fox,  u  I  owe  this  money  to 
Sheridan  :  it  is  a  debt  of  honor :  if  an  accident 
should  happen  to  me,  he  has  nothing  to  show." 
"Then,"  said  the  creditor,  "I  change  my  debt  into 
a  debt  of  honor,"  and  tore  the  note  in  pieces.  Fox 
thanked  the  man  for  his  confidence,  and  paid  him, 
saying,  "  his  debt  was  of  older  standing,  and  Sheri 
dan  must  wait."  Lover  of  Liberty,  friend  of  the 
Hindoo,  friend  of  the  African  slave,  lie  possessed  a 
great  personal  popularity  ;  and  Napoleon  said  of 
him  on  the  occasion  of  his  visit  to  Paris,  in  1805, 
"  Mr.  Fox  will  always  hold  the  first  place  in  an 
assembly  at  the  Tuileries." 

We  may  easily  seem  ridiculous  in  our  eulogy  of 
courtesy,  whenever  we  insist  on  benevolence  as  its 
foundation.  The  painted  phantasm  Fashion  rises 
to  cast  a  species  of  derision  on  what  we  say.  But 
I  will  neither  be  driven  from  some  allowance  to 
Fashion  as  a  symbolic  institution,  nor  from  the 
belief  that  love  is  the  basis  of  courtesy.  We  must 


122  MANNERS. 

obtain  that,  if  we  can ;  but  by  all  means  we  must 
affirm  this.  Life  owes  much  of  its  spirit  to  these 
sharp  contrasts.  Fashion  which  affects  to  be  hon 
or,  is  often,  in  all  men's  experience,  only  a  ball 
room-code.  Yet,  so  long  as  it  is  the  highest  circle, 
in  the  imagination  of  the  best  heads  on  the  planet, 
there  is  something  necessary  and  excellent  in  it ; 
for  it  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  men  have  agreed 
to  be  the  dupes  of  anything  preposterous  ;  and  the 
respect  which  these  mysteries  inspire  in  the  most 
rude  and  sylvan  characters,  and  the  curiosity  with 
which  details  of  high  life  are  read,  betray  the  uni 
versality  of  the  love  of  cultivated  manners.  I 
know  that  a  coinic  disparity  would  be  felt,  if  we 
should  enter  the  acknowledged  '  first  circles '  and 
apply  these  terrific  standards  of  justice,  beauty,  and 
benefit  to  the  individuals  actually  found  there. 
Monarclis  and  heroes,  sages  and  lovers,  these  gal 
lants  are  not.  Fashion  has  many  classes  and  many 
rules  of  probation  and  admission ;  and  not  the  best 
alone.  There  is  not  only  the  right  of  conquest, 
which  genius  pretends, — the  individual,  demonstrat 
ing  his  natural  aristocracy  best  of  the  best ; — but 
less  claims  will  pass  for  the  time  ;  for  Fashion  loves 
lions,  and  points,  like  Circe,  to  her  horned  com 
pany.  This  gentleman  is  this  afternoon  arrived 
from  Denmark ;  and  that  is  my  Lord  Ride,  who 
came  yesterday  from  Bagdat ;  here  is  Captain 
Friese,  from  Cape  Turnagain  ;  and  Captain 
Symmes,  from  the  interior  of  the  earth  ;  and  Mon- 


MANNERS.  123 

sieur  Jovaire,  who  came  down  this  morning  in  a 
balloon  ;  Mr.  Hobnail,  the  reformer  ;  and  Rever 
end  Jul  Bat,  who  lias  converted  the  whole  torrid 
zone  in  his  Sunday- school ;  and  Signor  Torre  del 
Greco,  who  extinguished  Vesuvius  by  pouring  into 
it  the  Bay  of  Naples  ;  Spahi,  the  Persian  ambassa 
dor  ;  and  Tul  Wil  Shan,  the  exiled  nabob  of  Ke- 
paul,  whose  saddle  is  the  new  moon. — But  these 
are  monsters  of  one  day,  and  to-morrow  will  be  dis 
missed  to  their  holes  and  dens  ;  for,  in  these  rooms, 
every  chair  is  waited  for.  The  artist,  the  scholar, 
and,  in  general,  the  clerisy,  wins  its  way  up  into 
these  places,  and  gets  represented  here,  somewhat 
on  this  footing  of  conquest.  Another  mode  is  to 
pass  through  all  the  degrees,  spending  a  year  and  a 
day  in  St.  Michael's  Square,  being  steeped  in  Co 
logne  water,  and  perfumed,  and  dined,  and  intro 
duced,  and  properly  grounded  in  all  the  biography, 
and  politics,  and  anecdotes  of  the  boudoirs. 

Yet  these  fineries  may  have  grace  and  wit.  Let 
there  be  grotesque  sculpture  about  the  gates  and 
offices  of  temples.  Let  the  creed  and  command 
ments  even  have  the  saucy  homage  of  parody. 
The  forms  of  politeness  universally  express  benevo 
lence  in  superlative  degrees.  What  if  they  are  in 
the  mouths  of  selfish  men,  and  used  as  means  of 
selfishness  ?  What  if  the  false  gentleman  almost 
bows  the  true  out  of  the  world  ?  What  if  the  false 
gentleman  contrives  so  to  address  his  companion,  as 
civilly  to  exclude  all  others  from  his  discourse,  and 


124  MANNERS. 

also  to  make  them  feel  excluded  ?  Real  service 
will  not  lose  its  nobleness.  All  generosity  is  not 
merely  French  and  sentimental ;  nor  is  it  to  be 
concealed,  that  living  blood  and  a  passion  of  kind 
ness  does  at  last  distinguish  God's  gentleman  from 
Fashion's.  The  epitaph  of  Sir  Jenkin  Grout  is  not 
wholly  unintelligible  to  the  present  age.  "  Here 
lies  Sir  Jenkin  Grout,  who  loved  his  friend,  and 
persuaded  his  enemy :  what  his  mouth  ate,  his 
hand  paid  for :  what  his  servants  robbed,  he  re 
stored  :  if  a  woman  gave  him  pleasure,  he  sup 
ported  her  in  pain  :  he  never  forgot  his  children  : 
and  whoso  touched  his  finger,  drew  after  it  his 
whole  body."  Even  the  line  of  heroes  is  not 
utterly  extinct.  There  is  still  ever  some  admirable 
person  in  plain  clothes,  standing  on  the  wharf,  who 
jumps  in  to  rescue  a  drowning  man  ;  there  is  still 
some  absurd  inventor  of  charities  ;  some  guide  and 
comforter  of  runaway  slaves  ;  some  friend  of  Po 
land  ;  some  Philhellene  ;  some  fanatic  who  plants 
shade-trees  for  the  second  and  third  generation, 
and  orchards  when  he  is  grown  old ;  some  well-con 
cealed  piety  ;  some  just  man  happy  in  an  ill-fame  ; 
some  youth  ashamed  of  the  favors  of  fortune,  and 
impatiently  casting  them  on  other  shoulders.  And 
these  are  the  centres  of  society,  on  which  it  re 
turns  for  fresh  impulses.  These  are  the  creators  of 
Fashion,  which  is  an  attempt  to  organize  beauty  of 
behavior.  The  beautiful  and  the  generous  are,  in 
the  theory,  the  doctors  and  apostles  of  this  church ; 


MANNERS.  125 

Scipio,  and  the  Cid,  and  Sir  Philip  Sidney,  and 
Washington,  and  every  pure  and  valiant  heart,  who 
worshipped  Beauty  by  word  and  by  deed.  The  per 
sons  who  constitute  the  natural  aristocracy,  are  not 
found  in  the  actual  aristocracy,  or,  only  on  its 
edge;  as  the  chemical  energy  of  the  spectrum  is 
found  to  be  greatest  just  outside  of  the  spec 
trum.  Yet  that  is  the  infirmity  of  the  seneschals, 
who  do  not  know  their  sovereign,  when  he  appears. 
The  theory  of  society  supposes  the  existence  and 
sovereignty  of  these.  It  divines  afar  off  their  com 
ing.  It  says  with  the  elder  gods,— 

"As  Heaven  and  Earth  are  fairer  far 
Than  Chaos  and  blank  Darkness,  though  once  chiefs ; 
And  as  we  show  beyond  that  Heaven  and  Earth, 
In  form  and  shape  compact  and  beautiful  ; 
So,  on  our  heels  a  fresh  perfection  treads ; 
A  power,  more  strong  in  beauty,  born  of  us, 
And  fated  to  excel  us,  as  we  pass 
In  glory  that  old  Darkness  : 

for,  't  is  the  eternal  law, 

That  first  in  beauty  shall  be  first  in  might." 

Therefore,  within  the  ethnical  circle  of  good  so 
ciety,  there  is  a  narrower  and  higher  circle,  concen 
tration  of  its  light,  and  flower  of  courtesy,  to  which 
there  is  always  a  tacit  appeal  of  pride  and  reference, 
as  to  its  inner  and  imperial  court,  the  parliament 
of  love  and  chivalry.  And  this  is  constituted  of 
those  persons  in  whom  heroic  dispositions  are  na 
tive,  with  the  love  of  beauty,  the  delight  in  society, 


126  MANNERS. 

and  the  power  to  embellish  the  passing  day.  If 
the  individuals  who  compose  the  purest  circles  of 
aristocracy  in  Europe,  the  guarded  blood  of  cen 
turies,  should  pass  in  review,  in  such  manner  as 
that  we  could,  at  leisure,  and  critically  inspect  their 
behavior,  we  might  find  no  gentleman,  and  no  lady  ; 
for,  although  excellent  specimens  of  courtesy  and 
high-breeding  would  gratify  us  in  the  assemblage, 
in  the  particulars,  we  should  detect  offence.  Be 
cause,  elegance  comes  of  no  breeding,  but  of  birth. 
There  must  be  romance  of  character,  or  the  most 
fastidious  exclusion  of  impertinencies  will  not  avail. 
It  must  be  genius  which  takes  that  direction  :  it 
must  be  not  courteous,  but  courtesy.  High  beha 
vior  is  as  rare  in  fiction,  as  it  is  in  fact.  Scott  is 
praised  for  the  fidelity  with  which  he  painted  the 
demeanor  and  conversation  of  the  superior  classes. 
Certainly,  kings  and  queens,  nobles  and  great  la 
dies,  had  some  right  to  complain  of  the  absurdity 
that  had  been  put  in  their  mouths,  before  the  days 
of  Waverley  ;  but  neither  does  Scott's  dialogue  bear 
criticism.  His  lords  brave  each  other  in  smart 
epigrammatic  speeches,  but  the  dialogue  is  in  cos 
tume,  and  does  not  please  on  the  second  reading  :  it 
is  not  warm  with  life.  In  Shakspeare  alone,  the 
speakers  do  not  strut  and  bridle,  the  dialogue  is 
easily  great,  and  he  adds  to  so  many  titles  that  of 
being  the  best-bred  man  in  England,  and  in  Chris 
tendom.  Once  or  twice  in  a  lifetime  we  are  per 
mitted  to  enjoy  the  charm  of  noble  manners,  in  the 


MANNERS.  127 

presence  of  a  man  or  woman  who  have  no  bar  in 
their  nature,  but  whose  character  emanates  freely 
in  their  word  and  gesture.  A  beautiful  form  is 
better  than  a  beautiful  face  ;  a  beautiful  behavior 
is  better  than  a  beautiful  form :  it  gives  a  higher 
pleasure  than  statues  or  pictures  ;  it  is  the  finest  of 
the  fine  arts.  A  man  is  but  a  little  thing  in  the 
midst  of  the  objects  of  nature,  yet,  by  the  moral 
quality  radiating  from  his  countenance,  he  may 
abolish  all  considerations  of  magnitude,  and  in  his 
manners  equal  the  majesty  of  the  world.  I  have 
seen  an  individual,  whose  manners,  though  wholly 
within  the  conventions  of  elegant  society,  were 
never  learned  there,  but  were  original  and  com 
manding,  and  held  out  protection  and  prosperity  ; 
one  who  did  not  need  the  aid  of  a  court- suit,  but 
carried  the  holiday  in  his  eye ;  who  exhilarated  the 
fancy  by  flinging  wide  the  doors  of  new  modes  of 
existence  ;  who  shook  off  the  captivity  of  etiquette, 
with  happy,  spirited  bearing,  good-natured  and  free 
as  Robin  Hood ;  yet  writh  the  port  of  an  emperor, 
— if  need  be,  calm,  serious,  and  fit  to  stand  the  gaze 
of  millions. 

The  open  air  and  the  fields,  the  street  and  public 
chambers,  are  the  places  where  Man  executes  his 
will ;  let  him  yield  or  divide  the  sceptre  at  the  door 
of  the  house.  Woman,  with  her  instinct  of  be 
havior,  instantly  detects  in  man  a  love  of  trifles, 
any  coldness  or  imbecility,  or,  in  short,  any  want 
of  that  large,  flowing,  and  magnanimous  depo>*. 


128  MANNERS. 

ment,  which  is  indispensable  as  an  exterior  in  the 
hall.  Our  American  institutions  have  been  friendly 
to  her,  and  at  this  moment,  I  esteem  it  a  chief  fe 
licity  of  this  country,  that  it  excels  in  women.  A 
certain  awkward  consciousness  of  inferiority  in  the 
men,  may  give  rise  to  the  new  chivalry  in  behalf  of 
"Woman's  Rights.  Certainly,  let  her  be  as  much 
better  placed  in  the  laws  and  in  social  forms,  as  the 
most  zealous  reformer  can  ask,  but  I  confide  so  en 
tirely  in  her  inspiring  and  musical  nature,  that  I 
believe  only  herself  can  show  us  how  she  shall  be 
served.  The  wonderful  generosity  of  her  senti 
ments  raises  her  at  times  into  heroical  and  godlike 
regions,  and  verifies  the  pictures  of  Minerva,  Juno, 
or  Polyinnia;  and,  by  the  firmness  with  which  she 
treads  her  upward  path,  she  convinces  the  coarsest 
calculators  that  another  road  exists,  than  that  which 
their  feet  know.  But  besides  those  who  make  good 
in  our  imagination  the  place  of  muses  and  of  Del 
phic  Sibyls,  are. there  not  women  who  fill  our  vase 
with  wine  and  roses  to  the  brim,  so  that  the  wine 
runs  over  and  fills  the  house  with  perfume ;  who 
inspire  us  with  courtesy  ;  who  unloose  our  tongues, 
and  we  speak  ;  who  anoint  our  eyes,  and  we  see  ? 
We  say  things  we  never  thought  to  have  said  ;  for 
once,  our  walls  of  habitual  reserve  vanished,  and  left 
us  at  large  ;  we  were  children  playing  with  chil 
dren  in  a  wide  field  of  flowers.  Steep  us,  we  cried, 
in  these  influences,  for  days,  for  weeks,  and  we 
<4iall  be  sunny  poets,  and  will  write  out  in  many- 


MANNERS.  129 

colored  words  the  romance  that  you  are.  Was  it 
Hafiz  or  Firdousi  that  said  of  his  Persian  Lilla,  She 
was  an  elemental  fore©,  and  astonished  me  by  her 
amount  of  life,  when  I  saw  her  day  after  day  ra 
diating,  every  instant,  redundant  joy  and  grace  on 
all  around  her.  She  was  a  solvent  powerful  to 
reconcile  all  heterogeneous  persons  into  one  society  : 
like  air  or  water,  an  element  of  such  a  great  range 
of  affinities,  that  it  combines  readily  with  a  thousand 
substances.  Where  she  is  present,  all  others  will 
be  more  than  they  are  wont.  She  was  a  unit  and 
whole,  so  that  whatsoever  she  did,  became  her.  She 
had  too  much  sympathy  and  desire  to  please,  than 
that  you  could  say,  her  manners  were  marked  with 
dignity,  yet  no  princess  could  surpass  her  clear  and 
erect  demeanor  on  each  occasion.  She  did  not  study 
the  Persian  grammar,  nor  the  book?  of  the  seven 
poets,  but  all  the  poems  of  the  seven  seemed  to  be 
written  upon  her.  For,  though  the  bias  of  her  nat 
ure  was  not  to  thought,  but  to  sympathy,  yet  was 
she  so  perfect  in  her  own  nature,  as  to  meet  intel 
lectual  persons  by  the  fulness  of  her  heart,  warm 
ing  them  by  her  sentiments  ;  believing,  as  she  did, 
that  by  dealing  nobly  with  all,  all  would  show  them 
selves  noble. 

I  know  that  this  Byzantine  pile  of  chivalry  or 
Fashion,  which  seems  so  fair  and  picturesque  to  those 
who  look  at  the  contemporary  facts  for  science  or 
for  entertainment,  is  not  equally  pleasant  to  all  spec- 


130  MANNERS. 

tators.  The  constitution  of  our  society  makes  it  a 
giant's  castle  to  the  ambitious  youth  who  have  not 
found  their  names  enrolled  in  its  Golden  Book,  and 
whom  it  has  excluded  from  its  coveted  honors  and 
privileges.  They  have  yet  to  learn  that  its  seeming 
grandeur  is  shadowy  and  relative :  it  is  great  by 
their  allowance :  its  proudest  gates  will  fly  open  at 
the  approach  of  their  courage  and  virtue.  For  the 
present  distress,  however,  of  those  who  are  predis 
posed  to  suffer  from  the  tyrannies  of  this  caprice, 
there  are  easy  remedies.  To  remove  your  residence 
a  couple  of  miles,  or  at  most  four,  will  commonly 
relieve  the  most  extreme  susceptibility.  For,  the 
advantages  which  fashion  values,  are  plants  which 
thrive  in  very  confined  localities,  in  a  few  streets, 
namely.  Out  of  this  precinct,  they  go  for  nothing ; 
are  of  no  use  in  the  farm,  in  the  forest,  in  the 
market,  in  war,  in  the  nuptial  society,  in  the  liter 
ary  or  scientific  circle,  at  sea,  in  friendship,  in  the 
heaven  of  thought  or  virtue. 

But  we  have  lingered  long  enough  in  these  painted 
courts.  The  worth  of  the  thing  signified  must  vin 
dicate  our  taste  for  the  emblem.  Everything  that 
is  called  fashion  and  courtesy  humbles  itself  before 
the  cause  and  fountain  of  honor,  creator  of  titles  and 
dignities,  namely,  the  heart  of  love.  This  is  the 
royal  blood,  this  is  the  fire,  which,  in  all  countries 
and  contingencies,  will  work  after  its  kind,  and  con 
quer  and  expand  all  that  approaches  it.  This  gives 
new  meanings  to  every  fact.  This  impoverishes  the 


MANNERS.  131 

rich,  suffering  no  grandeur  but  its  own.  What  is 
rich  ?  Are  you  rich  enough  to  help  anybody  ?  to 
succor  the  unfashionable  and  the  eccentric  ?  rich 
enough  to  make  the  Canadian  in  his  wagon,  the  itin 
erant  with  his  consul's  paper  which  commends  him 
"  To  the  charitable,"  the  swarthy  Italian  with  his 
few  broken  words  of  English,  the  lame  pauper  hunt 
ed  by  overseers  from  towrn  to  town,  even  the  poor 
insane  or  besotted  wreck  of  man  or  woman,  feel  the 
noble  exception  of  your  presence  and  your  house, 
from  the  general  bleakness  and  stoniness  ;  to  make 
such  feel  that  they  were  greeted  with  a  voice  which 
made  them  both  remember  and  hope  ?  What  is 
vulgar,  but  to  refuse  the  claim  on  acute  and  conclu 
sive  reasons  ?  What  is  gentle,  but  to  allow  it,  and 
give  their  heart  and  yours  one  holiday  from  the  na 
tional  caution?  Without  the  .rich  heart,  wealth  is 
an  ugly  beggar.  The  king  of  Schiraz  could  not 
afford  to  be  so  bountiful  as  the  poor  Osman  who 
dwelt  at  his  gate.  Osman  had  a  humanity  so  broad 
and  deep,  that  although  his  speech  was  so  bold  and 
free  with  the  Koran,  as  to  disgust  all  the  dervishes, 
yet  was  there  never  a  poor  outcast,  eccentric,  or  in 
sane  man,  some  fool  who  had  cut  off  his  beard,  or 
who  had  been  mutilated  under  a  vow,  or  had  a  pet 
madness  in  his  brain,  but  fled  at  once  to  him, — that 
great  heart  lay  there  so  sunny  and  hospitable  in  the 
centre  of  the  country,  that  it  seemed  as  if  the  in 
stinct  of  all  sufferers  drew  them  to  his  side.  And 
the  madness  which  he  harbored,  he  did  not  share. 


132  MANNERS. 

Is  not   this  to  be   rich?  this  only  to  be  rightly 
rich? 

But  I  shall  hear  without  pain,  that  I  play  the 
courtier  very  ill,  and  talk  of  that  which  I  do  not 
well  understand.  It  is  easy  to  see,  that  what  is 
called  by  distinction  society  and  fashion,  has  good 
laws  as  well  as  bad,  has  much  that  is  necessary,  and 
much  that  is  absurd.  Too  good  for  banning,  and 
too  bad  for  blessing,  it  reminds  us  of  a  tradition  of 
the  pagan  mythology,  in  any  attempt  to  settle  its 
character.  i  I  overheard  Jove,  one  day,'  said  Sile- 
nus, '  talking  of  destroying  the  earth  ;  he  said,  it  had 
failed ;  they  were  all  rogues  and  vixens,  who  went 
from  bad  to  worse,  as  fast  as  the  days  succeeded 
each  other.  Minerva  said,  she  hoped  not ;  they 
were  only  ridiculous  little  creatures,  with  this  odd 
circumstance,  that  they  had  a  blur,  or  indeterminate 
aspect,  seen  far  or  seen  near ;  if  you  called  them 
bad,  they  would  appear  so  ;  if  you  called  them  good, 
they  would  appear  so ;  and  there  was  no  one  per 
son  or  action  among  them,  which  would  not  puzzle 
her  owl,  much  more  all  Olympus,  to  know  whether 
it  was  fundamentally  bad  or  good.' 


GIFTS. 


Gifts  of  one  who  loved  me, — 
'T  was  high  time  they  came ; 
When  he  ceased  to  love  me, 
Time  they  stopped  for  shame. 


IT  is  said  that  the  world  is  in  a  state  of  bank 
ruptcy,  that  the  world  owes  the  world  more  than 
the  world  can  pay,  and  ought  to  go  into  chancery, 
and  be  sold.  I  do  not  think  this  general  insolvency, 
which  involves  in  some  sort  all  the  population, 
tobe  the  reason  of  the  difficulty  experienced  at 
Christmas  and  New  Year,  and  other  times,  in  be 
stowing  gifts  ;  since  it  is  always  so  pleasant  to  be 
generous,  though  very  vexatious  to  pay  debts.  But 
the  impediment  lies  in  the  choosing.  If,  at  any 
time,  it  comes  into  my  head,  that  a  present  is  due 
from  me  to  somebody,  I  am  puzzled  what  to  give, 
until  the  opportunity  is  gone.  Flowers  and  fruits 
are  always  fit  presents ;  flowers,  because  they  are  a 
proud  assertion  that  a  ray  of  beauty  outvalues  all 
the  utilities  of  the  world.  These  gay  natures  con 
trast  with  the  somewhat  stern  countenance  of  ordi- 


134:  GIFTS. 

nary  nature :  they  are  like  music  heard  out  of  a 
work-house.  Nature  does  not  cocker  us  :  we  are 
children,  not  pets :  she  is  not  fond  :  everything  is 
dealt  to  us  without  fear  or  favor,  after  severe  uni 
versal  laws.  Yet  these  delicate  flowers  look  like 
the  frolic  and  interference  of  love  and  beauty. 
Men  use  to  tell  us  that  we  love  flattery,  even 
though  we  are  not  deceived  by  it,  because  it  shows 
that  we  are  of  importance  enough  to  be  courted. 
Something  like  that  pleasure,  the  flowers  give  us : 
what  am  I  to  whom  these  sweet  hints  are  addressed  ? 
Fruits  are  acceptable  gifts,  because  they  are  the 
flower  of  commodities,  and  admit  of  fantastic  values 
being  attached  to  them.  If  a  man  should  send  to 
me  to  come  a  hundred  miles  to  visit  him,  and  should 
set  before  me  a  basket  of  fine  summer-fruit,  I 
should  think  there  was  some  proportion  between 
the  labor  and  the  reward. 

For  common  gifts,  necessity  makes  pertinences 
and  beauty  every  day,  and  one  is  glad  when  an  im 
perative  leaves  him  no  option,  since  if  the  man  at 
the  door  have  no  shoes,  you  have  not  to  consider 
whether  you  could  procure  him  a  paint  box.  And  as 
it  is  always  pleasing  to  see  a  man  eat  bread,  or  drink 
water,  in  the  house  or  out  of  doors,  so  it  is  always 
a  great  satisfaction  to  supply  these  first  wants. 
Necessity  does  everything  well.  In  our  condition 
of  universal  dependence,  it  seems  heroic  to  let  the 
petitioner  be  the  judge  of  his  necessity,  and  to  give 
all  that  is  asked,  though  at  great  inconvenience.  If 


GIFTS.  135 

it  be  a  fantastic  desire,  it  is  better  to  leave  to  others 
the  office  of  punishing  him.  I  can  think  of  many 
parts  I  should  prefer  playing  to  that  of  the  Furies. 
Next  to  things  of  necessity,  the  rule  for  a  gift, 
which  one  of  my  friends  prescribed,  is,  that  we 
might  convey  to  some  person  that  which  properly 
belonged  to  his  character,  and  was  easily  associated 
with  him  in  thought.  But  our  tokens  of  compli 
ment  and  love  are  for  the  most  part  barbarous. 
Rings  and  other  jewels  are  not  gifts,  but  apologies 
for  gifts.  The  only  gift  is  a  portion  of  thyself. 
Thou  must  bleed  for  me.  Therefore  the  poet  brings 
his  poem ;  the  shepherd,  his  lamb  ;  the  farmer, 
corn  ;  the  miner,  a  gem  ;  the  sailor,  coral  and  shells  ; 
the  painter,  his  picture  ;  the  girl,  a  handkerchief  of 
her  own  sewing.  This  is  right  and  pleasing,  for  it 
restores  society  in  so  far  to  its  primary  basis,  when 
a  man's  biography  is  conveyed  in  his  gift,  and 
every  man's  wealth  is  an  index  of  his  merit.  But 
it  is  a  cold,  lifeless  business  when  you  go  to  the 
shops  to  buy  me  something,  which  does  not  repre 
sent  your  life  and  talent,  but  a  goldsmith's.  This 
is  fit  for  kings,  and  rich  men  who  represent  kings, 
and  a  false  state  of  property,  to  make  presents  of 
gold  and  silver  stuffs,  as  a  kind  of  symbolical  sin- 
offering,  or  payment  of  black-mail. 

The  law  of  benefits  is  a  difficult  channel,  which 
requires  careful  sailing,  or  rude  boats.  It  is  not  the 
office  of  a  man  to  receive  gifts.  How  dare  you  give 
them  ?  We  wish  to  be  self-sustained.  We  do  not 


136  GIFTS. 

quite  forgive  a  giver.  The  hand  that  feeds  us  is  in 
some  danger  of  being  bitten.  We  can  receive  any 
thing  from  love,  for  that  is  a  way  of  receiving  it 
from  ourselves ;  but  not  from  any  one  who  assumes 
to  bestow.  We  sometimes  hate  the  meat  which  we 
eat,  because  there  seems  something  of  degrading  de 
pendence  in  living  by  it. 

"  Brother,  if  Jove  to  thee  a  present  make, 
Take  heed  that  from  his  hands  thou  nothing  take." 

We  ask  the  whole.  Nothing  less  will  content  us. 
We  arraign  society,  if  it  do  not  give  us  besides 
earth,  and  fire,  and  water,  opportunity,  love,  rever 
ence,  and  objects  of  veneration. 

He  is  a  good  man,  who  can  receive  a  gift  well. 
We  are  either  glad  or  sorry  at  a  gift,  and  both  emo 
tions  are  unbecoming.  Some  violence,  I  think,  is 
done,  some  degradation  borne,  when  I  rejoice  or 
grieve  at  a  gift.  I  am  sorry  when  my  independence 
is  invaded,  or  when  a  gift  comes  from  such  as  do 
not  know  my  spirit,  and  so  the  act  is  not  supported  ; 
and  if  the  gift  pleases  me  overmuch,  then  I  should 
be  ashamed  that  the  donor  should  read  my  heart, 
and  see  that  I  love  his  commodity  and  not  him. 
The  gift,  to  be  true,  must  be  the  flowing  of  the 
giver  unto  me,  correspondent  to  my  flowing  unto 
him.  When  the  waters  are  at  level,  then  my  goods 
pass  to  him,  and  his  to  me.  All  his  are  mine,  all 
mine  his.  I  say  to  him,  How  can  you  give  me  this 
pot  of  oil,  or  this  flagon  of  wine,  when  all  your 


GIFTS.  137 

oil  and  wine  is  mine,  which  belief  of  mine  this  gift 
seems  to  deny  ?  Hence  the  fitness  of  beautiful,  not 
useful  things  for  gifts.  This  giving  is  flat  usurpa 
tion,  and  therefore  when  the  beneficiary  is  ungrate 
ful,  as  all  beneficiaries  hate  all  Timons,  not  at  all 
considering  the  value  of  the  gift,  but  looking  back 
to  the  greater  store  it  was  taken  from,  I  rather  sym 
pathize  with  the  beneficiary,  than  with  the  anger  of 
my  lord  Timon.  For,  the  expectation  of  gratitude 
is  mean,  and  is  continually  punished  by  the  total 
insensibility  of  the  obliged  person.  It  is  a  great 
happiness  to  get  off  without  injury  and  heart-burn 
ing,  from  one  who  has  had  the  ill  luck  to  be  served 
by  you.  It  is  a  very  onerous  business,  this  of  being 
served,  and  the  debtor  naturally  wishes  to  give  you 
a  slap.  A  golden  text  for  these  gentlemen  is  that 
which  I  so  admire  in  the  Buddhist,  who  never 
thanks,  and  who  says,  "  Do  not  flatter  your  bene 
factors." 

The  reason  of  these  discords  I  conceive  to  be,  that 
there  is  no  commensurability  between  a  man  and 
any  gift.  You  cannot  give  anything  to  a  magnani 
mous  person.  After  you  have  served  him,  he  at 
once  puts  you  in  debt  by  his  magnanimity.  The 
service  a  man  renders  his  friend  is  trivial  and  self 
ish,  compared  with  the  service  he  knows  his  friend 
stood  in  readiness  to  yield  him,  alike  before  he  had 
begun  to  serve  his  friend,  and  now  also.  Compared 
with  that  good-will  I  bear  my  friend,  the  benefit  it 
is  in  my  power  to  render  him  seems  small.  BeJdes, 


138  GIFTS. 

our  action  on  each  other,  good  as  well  as  evil,  is  so 
incidental  and  at  random,  that  we  can  seldom  hear 
the  acknowledgments  of  any  person  who  would  thank 
us  for  a  benefit,  wittiout  some  shame  and  humilia 
tion.  We  can  rarely  strike  a  direct  stroke,  but  must 
be  content  with  an  oblique  one ;  we  seldom  have  the 
satisfaction  of  yielding  a  direct  benefit,  which  is  di 
rectly  received.  But  rectitude  scatters  favors  on 
every  side  without  knowing  it,  and  receives  with 
wonder  the  thanks  of  all  people. 

I  fear  to  breathe  any  treason  against  the  majesty 
of  love,  which  is  the  genius  and  god  of  gifts,  and  to 
whom  we  must  not  affect  to  prescribe.  Let  him 
give  kingdoms  or  flower-leaves  indifferently.  There 
are  persons,  from  whom  we  always  expect  fairy  to 
kens  ;  let  us  not  cease  to  expect  them.  This  is  pre 
rogative,  and  not  to  be  limited  by  our  municipal 
rules.  For  the  rest,  I  like  to  see  that  we  cannot 
be  bought  and  sold.  The  best  of  hospitality  and  of 
generosity  is  also  not  in  the  will  but  in  fate.  I  find 
that  I  am  not  much  to  you ;  you  do  not  need  me ; 
you  do  not  feel  me  :  then  am  I  thrust  out  of  doors, 
though  you  proffer  me  house  and  lands.  No  ser 
vices  are  of  any  value,  but  only  likeness.  When  I 
have  attempted  to  join  myself  to  others  by  services, 
it  proved  an  intellectual  trick, — no  more.  They  eat 
your  service  like  apples,  and  leave  you  out.  But 
love  them,  and  they  feel  you,  and  delight  in  you  all 
the  time. 


NATUKE. 


The  rounded  world  is  fair  to  see, 

Nine  times  folded  in  mystery  : 

Though  baffled  seers  cannot  impart 

The  secret  of  its  laboring  heart, 

Throb  thine  with  Nature's  throbbing  breast, 

And  all  is  clear  from  east  to  west. 

Spirit  that  lurks  each  form  withiii 

Beckons  to  spirit  of  its  kin  ; 

Self -kindled  every  atom  glows, 

And  hints  the  future  which  it  owes. 


THEEE  are  days  which  occur  in  this  climate,  at 
almost  any  season  of  the  year,  wherein  the  world 
reaches  its  perfection,  when  the  air,  the  heavenly 
bodies,  and  the  earth,  make  a  harmony,  as  if  nature 
would  indulge  her  offspring ;  when,  in  these  bleak 
upper  sides  of  the  planet,  nothing  is  to  desire  that 
we  have  heard  of  the  happiest  latitudes,  and  we  bask 
in  the  shining  hours  of  Florida  and  Cuba ;  when 
everything  that  has  life  gives  sign  of  satisfaction, 
and  the  cattle  that  lie  on  the  ground  seem  to  have 
great  and  tranquil  thoughts.  These  halcyons  may 
be  looked  for  with  a  little  more  assurance  in  that 


140  NATURE. 

pure  October  weather,  which  we  distinguish  by  the 
name  of  the  Indian  Summer.  The  day,  immeasur 
ably  long,  sleeps  over  the  broad  hills  and  warm  wide 
fields.  To  have  lived  through  all  its  sunny  hours, 
seems  longevity  enough.  The  solitary  places  do  not 
seem  quite  lonely.  At  the  gates  of  the  forest,  the 
surprised  man  of  the  world  is  forced  to  leave  his 
city  estimates  of  great  and  small,  wise  and  foolish. 
The  knapsack  of  custom  falls  off  his  back  with  the 
first  step  he  makes  into  these  precincts.  Here  is 
sanctity  which  shames  our  religions,  and  reality 
which  discredits  our  heroes.  Here  we  find  nature 
to  be  the  circumstance  which  dwarfs  every  other 
circumstance,  and  judges  like  a  god  all  men  that 
come  to  her.  We  have  crept  out  of  our  close  and 
crowded  houses  into  the  night  and  morning,  and  we 
see  what  majestic  beauties  daily  wrap  us  in  their 
bosom.  How  willingly  we  would  escape  the  bar 
riers  which  render  them  comparatively  impotent, 
escape  the  sophistication  and  second  thought,  and 
suffer  nature  to  entrance  us.  The  tempered  light 
of  the  woods  is  like  a  perpetual  morning,  and  is 
stimulating  and  heroic.  The  anciently  reported 
spells  of  these  places  creep  on  us.  The  stems  of 
pines,  hemlocks,  and  oaks,  almost  gleam  like  iron 
on  the  excited  eye.  The  incommunicable  trees  be 
gin  to  persuade  us  to  live  with  them,  and  quit  our 
life  of  solemn  trifles.  Here  no  history,  or  church, 
or  state,  is  interpolated  on  the  divine  sky  and  the 
immortal  year.  How  easily  we  might  walk  on  ward 


NATURE.  141 

into  the  opening  landscape,  absorbed  by  new  pict 
ures,  and  by  thoughts  fast  succeeding  each  other, 
until  by  degrees  the  recollection  of  home  was 
crowded  out  of  the  mind,  all  memory  obliterated 
by  the  tyranny  of  the  present,  and  we  were  led  in 
triumph  by  nature. 

These  enchantments  are  medicinal,  they  sober  and 
heal  us.  These  are  plain  pleasures,  kindly  and  na 
tive  to  us.  We  come  to  our  own,  and  make  friends 
with  matter,  which  the  ambitions  chatter  of  the 
schools  would  persuade  us  to  despise.  We  never 
can  part  with  it ;  the  mind  loves  its  old  home  :  as 
water  to  our  thirst,  so  is  the  rock,  the  ground,  to  our 
eyes,  and  hands,  and  feet.  It  is  firm  water :  it  is 
cold  flame :  what  health,  what  affinity  !  Ever  an 
old  friend,  ever  like  a  dear  friend  and  brother,  when 
we  chat  affectedly  with  strangers,  comes  in  this 
honest  face,  and  takes  a  grave  liberty  with  us,  and 
shames  us  out  of  our  nonsense.  Cities  give  not  the 
human  senses  room  enough.  We  go  out  daily  and 
nightly  to  feed  the  eyes  on  the  horizon,  and  require 
so  much  scope,  just  as  we  need  water  for  our  bath. 
There  are  all  degrees  of  natural  influence,  from  these 
quarantine  powers  of  nature,  up  to  her  dearest  and 
gravest  ministrations  to  the  imagination  and  the 
soul.  There  is  the  bucket  of  cold  water  from  the 
spring,  the  wood-fire  to  which  the  chilled  traveller 
rushes  for  safety, — and  there  is  the  sublime  moral 
of  autumn  and  of  noon.  We  nestle  in  nature,  and 
draw  our  living  as  parasites  from  her  roots  anc]. 


142  NATURE. 

grains,  and  we  receive  glances  from  the  heavenly 
bodies,  which  call  us  to  solitude,  and  foretell  the  re^ 
inotest future.  The  blue  zenith  is  the  point  in  which 
romance  and  reality  meet.  I  think,  if  we  should 
be  rapt  away  into  all  that  we  dream  of  heaven,  and 
should  converse  with  Gabriel  and  Uriel,  the  upper 
sky  would  be  all  that  would  remain  of  our  furniture. 
It  seems  as  if  the  day  was  not  wholly  profane,  in 
which  we  have  given  heed  to  some  natural  object. 
The  fall  of  snowflakes  in  a  still  air,  preserving  to 
each  crystal  its  perfect  form  ;  the  blowing  of  sleet 
over  a  wide  sheet  of  water,  and  over  plains,  the  wav 
ing  rye-field,  the  mimic  waving  of  acres  of  hous- 
tonia,  whose  innumerable  florets  whiten  and  ripple 
before  the  eye  ;  the  reflections  of  trees  and  flowers 
in  glassy  lakes  ;  the  musical  steaming  odorous  south 
wind,  which  converts  all  trees  to  windharps ;  the 
crackling  and  spurting  of  hemlock  in  the  flames  ; 
or  of  pine  logs,  which  yield  glory  to  the  walls  and 
faces  in  the  sitting-room, — these  are  the  music  and 
pictures  of  the  most  ancient  religion. .  My  house 
stands  in  low  land,  with  limited  outlook,  and  on  the 
skirt  of  the  village.  But  I  go  with  my  friend  to  the 
shore  of  our  little  river  ;  and  with  one  stroke  of  the 
paddle,  I  leave  the  village  politics  and  personalities, 
yes,  and  the  world  of  villages  and  personalities  be 
hind,  and  pass  into  a  delicate  realm  of  sunset  and 
moonlight,  too  bright  almost  for  spotted  man  to  en 
ter  without  noviciate  and  probation.  We  penetrate 
bodily  this  incredible  beauty  :  we  dip  our  hands  in 


NATURE.  143 

this  painted  element :  our  eyes  are  bathed  in  these 
lights  and  forms.  A  holiday,  a  villeggiatura,  a 
royal  revel,  the  proudest,  most  heart-rejoicing  fes 
tival  that  valor  and  beauty,  power  and  taste,  ever 
decked  and  enjoyed,  establishes  itself  on  the  instant. 
These  sunset  clouds,  these  delicately  emerging  stars, 
with  their  private  and  ineffable  glances,  signify  it 
and  proffer  it.  I  am  taught  the  poorness  of  our  in 
vention,  the  ugliness  of  towns  and  palaces.  Art 
and  luxury  have  early  learned  that  they  must  work 
as  enchantment  and  sequel  to  this  original  beauty. 
I  am  over-instructed  for  my  return.  Henceforth  I 
shall  be  hard  to  please.  I  cannot  go  back  to  toys. 
I  am  grown  expensive  and  sophisticated.  I  can  no 
longer  live  without  elegance  :  but  a  countryman 
shall  be  my  master  of  revels.  He  who  knows  the 
most,  he  who  knows  what  sweets  and  virtues  are  in 
the  ground,  the  waters,  the  plants,  the  heavens,  and 
how  to  come  at  these  enchantments,  is  the  rich  and 
royal  man.  Only  as  far  as  the  masters  of  the  world 
have  called  in  nature  to  their  aid,  can  they  reach  the 
height  of  magnificence.  This  is  the  meaning  of 
their  hanging-gardens,  villas,  garden-houses,  islands, 
parks,  and  preserves,  to  back  their  faulty  personal 
ity  with  these  strong  accessories.  I  do  not  wonder 
that  the  landed  interest  should  be  invincible  in  the 
state  with  these  dangerous  auxiliaries.  These  bribe 
and  invite  ;  not  kings,  not  palaces,  not  men,  not 
women,  but  these  tender  and  poetic  stars,  eloquent 
of  secret  promises.  We  heard  what  the  rich  man 


144  NATURE. 

said,  we  knew  of  his  villa,  his  grove,  his  wine,  and 
his  company,  but  the  provocation  and  point  of  the 
invitation  came  out  of  these  beguiling  stars.  In 
their  soft  glances,  I  see  what  men  strove  to  realize 
in  some  Versailles,  or  Paphos,  or  Ctesiphon.  In 
deed,  it  is  the  magical  lights  of  the  horizon,  and  the 
blue  sky  for  the  background,  which  save  all  our 
works  of  art,  which  were  otherwise  bawbles.  When 
the  rich  tax  the  poor  with  servility  and  obsequious 
ness,  they  should  consider  the  effect  of  men  reputed 
to  be  the  possessors  of  nature,  on  imaginative  minds. 
Ah !  if  the  rich  were  rich  as  the  poor  fancy  riches ! 
A  boy  hears  a  military  band  play  on  the  field  at 
night,  and  he  has  kings  and  queens,  and  famous 
chivalry  palpably  before  him.  He  hears  the  echoes 
of  a  horn  in  a  hill  country,  in  the  Notch  Mountains, 
for  example,  which  converts  the  mountains  into  an 
.JEolian  harp,  and  this  supernatural  tiralira  restores 
to  him  the  Dorian  mythology,  Apollo,  Diana,  and 
all  divine  hunters  and  huntresses.  Can  a  musical 
note  be  so  lofty,  so  haughtily  beautiful !  To  the 
poor  young  poet,  thus  fabulous  is  his  picture  of  so- 
ciety  ;  he  is  loyal ;  he  respects  the  rich  ;  they  are 
rich  for  the  sake  of  his  imagination  ;  how  poor  his 
fancy  would  be,  if  they  were  not  rich  !  That  they 
have  some  high-fenced  grove,  which  they  call  a 
park ;  that  they  live  in  larger  and  better-garnished 
saloons  than  he  has  visited,  and  go  in  coaches,  keep 
ing  only  the  society  of  the  elegant,  to  watering- 
places,  and  to  distant  cities,  are  the  groundwork 


NATURE.  145 

from  which  he  has  delineated  estates  of  romance, 
compared  with  which  their  actual  possessions  are 
shanties  and  paddocks.  The  muse  herself  betrays 
her  son,  and  enhances  the  gifts  of  wealth  and  well 
born  beauty,  by  a  radiation  out  of  the  air,  and  clouds, 
and  forests  that  skirt  the  road, — a  certain  haughty 
favor,  as  if  from  patrician  genii  to  patricians,  a  kind 
of  aristocracy  in  nature,  a  prince  of  the  power  of  the 
air. 

The  moral  sensibility  which  makes  Edens  and 
Tempes  so  easily,  may  not  be  always  found,  but  the 
material  landscape  is  never  far  off.  We  can  find 
these  enchantments  without  visiting  the  Como  Lake, 
or  the  Madeira  Islands.  We  exaggerate  the  praises 
of  local  scenery.  In  every  landscape,  the  point  of 
astonishment  is  the  meeting  of  the  sky  and  the 
earth,  and  that  is  seen  from  the  first  hillock  as  well 
as  from  the  top  of  the  Alleghanies.  The  stars  at 
night  stoop  down  over  the  brownest,  homeliest 
common,  with  all  the  spiritual  magnificence  which 
they  shed  on  the  Campagna,  or  on  the  marble  des 
erts  of  Egypt.  The  uprolled  clouds  and  the  colors 
of  morning  and  evening,  will  transfigure  maples  and 
alders.  The  difference  between  landscape  and  land 
scape  is  small,  but  there  is  great  difference  in  the  be 
holders.  There  is  nothing  so  wonderful  in  any  par 
ticular  landscape,  as  the  necessity  of  being  beautiful 
under  which  every  landscape  lies.  Kature  cannot  be 
surprised  in  undress.  Beauty  breaks  in  every  where. 

But  it  is  very  easy  to  outrun  the  sympathy  of 
10 


146  NATURE. 

readers  on  this  topic,  which  schoolmen  called  na- 
tura  naturata,  or  nature  passive.  One  can  hardly 
speak  directly  of  it  without  excess.  It  is  as  easy  to 
broach  in  mixed  companies. what  is  called  "  the  sub 
ject  of  religion."  A  susceptible  person  does  not  like 
to  indulge  his  tastes  in  this  kind,  without  the  apol 
ogy  of  some  trivial  necessity :  he  goes  to  see  a  wood- 
lot,  or  to  look  at  the  crops,  or  to  fetch  a  plant  or 
a  mineral  from  a  remote  locality,  or  he  carries 
a  fowling-piece,  or  a  fishing-rod.  I  suppose  this 
shame  must  have  a  good  reason.  A  dilettantism  in 
nature  is  barren  and  unworthy.  The  fop  of  fields 
is  no  better  than  his  brother  of  Broadway.  Men 
are  naturally  hunters  and  inquisitive  of  wood-craft, 
and  I  suppose  that  such  a  gazetteer  as  wood-cutters 
and  Indians  should  furnish  facts  for,  would  take 
place  in  the  most  sumptuous  drawing-rooms  of  all  the 
"Wreaths"  and  "  Flora's  chaplets"  of  the  book 
shops  ;  yet  ordinarily,  whether  we  are  too  clumsy 
for  so  subtle  a  topic,  or  from  whatever  cause,  as 
soon  as  men  begin  to  write  on  nature,  they  fall  into 
euphuism.  Frivolity  is  a  most  unfit  tribute  to  Pan, 
who  ought  to  be  represented  in  the  mythology  as 
the  most  continent  of  gods.  I  would  not  be  frivo 
lous  before  the  admirable  reserve  and  prudence  of 
time,  yet  I  cannot  renounce  the  right  of  returning 
often  to  this  old  topic.  The  multitude  of  false 
churches  accredits  the  true  religion.  Literature, 
poetry,  science,  are  the  homage  of  man  to  this 
unfathomed  secret,  concerning  which  no  sane  man 


NATURE.  14:7 

can  affect  an  indifference  or  incuriosity.  Nature  is 
loved  by  what  is  best  in  us.  It  is  loved  as  the  city 
of  God,  although,  or  rather  because  there  is  no  citi 
zen.  The  sunset  is  unlike  anything  that  is  under 
neath  it :  it  wants  men.  And  the  beauty  of  nature 
must  always  seem  unreal  and  mocking,  until  the 
landscape  has  human  figures,  that  are  as  good  as  it 
self.  If  there  were  good  men,  there  would  never 
be  this  rapture  in  nature.  If  the  king  is  in  the 
palace,  nobody  looks  at  the  walls.  It  is  when  he 
is  gone,  and  the  house  is  filled  with  grooms  and 
gazers,  that  we  turn  from  the  people,  to  find  relief 
in  the  majestic  men  that  are  suggested  by  the  pict 
ures  and  the  architecture.  The  critics  who  com 
plain  of  the  sickly  separation  of  the  beauty  of  nat 
ure  from  the  thing  to  be  done,  must  consider  that 
our  hunting  of  the  picturesque  is  inseparable  from 
our  protest  against  false  society.  iJMan  is  fallen; 
nature  is  erect,  and  serves  as  a  differential  thermom 
eter,  detecting  the  presence  or  absence  of  the  divine 
sentiment  in  inan^/  By  fault  of  our  dulness  and 
selfishness,  we  are  looking  up  to  nature,  but  when 
we  are  convalescent,  nature  will  look  up  to  us.  We 
see  the  foaming  brook  with  compunction :  if  our 
own  life  flowed  with  the  right  energy,  we  should 
shame  the  brook.  The  stream  of  zeal  sparkles  with 
real  fire,  and  not  with  reflex  rays  of  sun  and  moon. 
Nature  may  be  as  selfishly  studied  as  trade.  As 
tronomy  to  the  selfish  becomes  astrology.  Psychol 
ogy,  mesmerism  (with  intent  to  show  where  GUI 


148  NATURE. 

spoons  are  gone) ;  and  anatomy  and  physiology,  be 
come  phrenology  and  palmistry. 

But  taking  timely  warning,  and  leaving  many 
things  unsaid  on  this  topic,  let  us  not  longer  omit 
our  homage  to  the  Efficient  Nature,  natura  natu- 
ranSy  the  quick  cause,  before  which  all  forms  flee  as 
the  driven  snows,  itself  secret,  its  works  driven  be 
fore  it  in  flocks  and  multitudes,  (as  the  ancient  rep 
resented  nature  by  Proteus,  a  shepherd,)  and  in  un- 
describable  variety.  It  publishes  itself  in  creatures, 
reaching  from  particles  and  spicula,  through  trans 
formation  on  transformation  to  the  highest  sym 
metries,  arriving  at  consummate  results  without  a 
shock  or  a  leap.  A  little  heat,  that  is,  a  little  mo 
tion,  is  all  that  differences  the  bald,  dazzling  white, 
and  deadly  cold  poles  of  the  earth  from  the  prolific 
tropical  climates.  All  changes  pass  without  vio 
lence,  by  reason  of  the  two  cardinal  conditions  of 
boundless  space  and  boundless  time.  Geology  has 
initiated  us  into  the  secularity  of  nature,  and  taught 
us  to  disuse  our  dame-school  measures,  and  ex 
change  our  Mosaic  and  Ptolemaie  schemes  for  her 
large  style.  We  knew  nothing  rightly,  for  want  of 
perspective.  Now  we  learn  what  patient  periods 
must  round  themselves  before  the  rock  is  formed, 
then  before  the  rock  is  broken,  and  the  first  lichen 
race  has  disintegrated  tfie  thinnest  external  plate 
into  soil,  and  opened  the  door  for  the  remote  Flora, 
Fauna,  Ceres,  and  Pomona,  to  come  in.  How  far 
off  yet  is  the  trilobite  !  how  far  the  quadruped  J 


NATURE.  149 

how  inconceivably  remote  is  man  !  All  duly  arrive, 
and  then  race  after  race  of  men.  It  is  a  long  way 
from  granite  to  the  oyster ;  farther  yet  to  Plato,  and 
the  preaching  of  the  immortality  of  the  soul.  Yet  all 
must  come,  as  surely  as  the  first  atom  has  two  sides. 

Motion  or  change,  and  identity  or  rest,  are  the 
first  and  second  secrets  of  nature :  Motion  and 
Rest.  The  whole  code  of  her  laws  may  be  written 
on  the  thumbnail,  or  the  signet  of  a  ring.  The 
whirling  bubble  on  the  surface  of  a  brook,  admits 
us  to  the  secret  of  the  mechanics  of  the  sky. 
Every  shell  on  the  beach  is  a  key  to  it.  A  little 
water  made  to  rotate  in  a  cup  explains  the  forma 
tion  of  the  simpler  shells ;  the  addition  of  matter 
from  year  to  year,  arrives  at  last  at  the  most  com 
plex  form ;  and  yet  so  poor  is  nature  with  all  her 
craft,  that,  from  the  beginning  to  the  end  of  the 
universe,  she  has  but  one  stuff, — but  one  stuff  with 
its  two  ends,  to  serve  up  all  her  dream-like  variety. 
Compound  it  how  she  will,  star,  sand,  fire,  water, 
tree,  man,  it  is  still  one  stuff,  and  betrays  the  same 
properties. 

Nature  73  always  consistent,  though  she  feigns  to 
contraven3  her  own  laws.  She  keeps  her  laws,  and 
seems  to  transcend  them.  She  arms  and  equips  an 
animal  to  find  its  place  and  living  in  the  earth,  and, 
at  the  same  time,  she  arms  and  equips  another  ani 
mal  to  destroy  it.  Space  exists  to  divide  creatures; 
but  by  clothing  the  sides  of  a  bird  with  a  few  feath- 
l?rs,  she  givesliim  a  petty  omnipresence.  The  di- 


150  NATURE. 

rection  is  forever  onward,  but  the  artist  still  goes 
back  for  materials,  and  begins  again  with  the  first 
elements  on  the  most  advanced  stage :  otherwise, 
all  goes  to  ruin.  If  we  look  at  her  work,  we  seem 
to  catch  a  glance  of  a  system  in  transition.  Plants 
are  the  young  of  the  world,  vessels  of  health  and 
vigor  ;  but  they  grope  ever  upward  toward  con 
sciousness  ;  the  trees  are  imperfect  men,  and  seem 
to  bemoan  their  imprisonment,  rooted  in  the 
ground.  The  animal  is  the  novice  and  probationer 
of  a  more  advanced  order.  The  men,  though 
young,  having  tasted  the  first  drop  from  the  cup  of 
thought,  are  already  dissipated  :  the  maples  and 
ferns  are  still  uncorrupt ;  yet  no  doubt,  when  they 
come  to  consciousness,  they  too  will  curse  and 
swear.  Flowers  so  strictly  belong  to  youth,  that 
we  adult  men  soon  come  to  feel,  that  their  beauti 
ful  generations  concern  not  us :  we  have  had  our 
day  ;  now  let  the  children  have  theirs.  The  flow 
ers  jilt  us,  and  we  are  old  bachelors  with  our  ridic 
ulous  tenderness. 

Things  are  so  strictly  related,  that  according  to  the 
skill  of  the  eye,  from  any  one  object  the  parts  and 
properties  of  any  other  may  be  predicted.  If  we 
had  eyes  to  see  it,  a  bit  of  stone  from  the  city  wall 
would  certify  us  of  the  necessity  that  man  must 
exist,  as  readily  as  the  city.  That  identity  makes 
us  all  one,  and  reduces  to  nothing  great  intervals 
on  our  customary  scale.  We  talk  of  deviations 
from  natural  life,  as  if  artificial  life  were  not  also 


NATURE.  153 

natural.  The  smoothest  curled  courtier  in  the  bou 
doirs  of  a  palace  has  an  animal  nature,  rude  and 
aboriginal  as  a  white  bear,  omnipotent  to  its  own 
ends,  and  is  directly  related,  there  amid  essences 
and  billets-doux,  to  Himmaleh  mountain-chains, 
and  the  axis  of  the  globe.  If  we  consider  how 
much  we  are  nature's,  we  need  not  be  supersti 
tious  about  towns,  as  if  that  terrific  or  benefic  force 
did  not  find  us  there  also,  and  fashion  cities. 
Mature  who  made  the  mason,  made  the  house. 
WQ  may  easily  hear  too  much  of  rural  influences. 
The  cool  disengaged  air  of  natural  objects,  makes 
them  enviable  to  us,  chafed  and  irritable  creatures 
with  red  faces,  and  we  think  we  shall  be  as 
grand  as  they,  if  we  camp  out  and  eat  roots ;  but 
let  us  be  men  instead  of  woodchucks,  and  the 
oak  and  the  elm  shall  gladly  serve  us,  though 
we  sit  in  chairs  of  ivory  on  carpets  of  silk. 

This  guilding  identity  runs  through  all  the  sur 
prises  and  contrasts  of  the  piece,  and  characterizes 
every  law.  Man  carries  the  world  in  his  head,  the 
whole  astronomy  and  chemistry  suspended  in  a 
thought.  Because  the  history  of  nature  is  charac 
tered  in  his  brain,  therefore  is  he  the  prophet  and 
discoverer  of  her  secrets.  Every  known  fact  in 
natural  science  was  divined  by  the  presentiment  of 
somebody,  before  it  was  actually  verified.  A  man 
does  not  tie  his  shoe  without  recognizing  laws 
which  bind  the  farthest  regions  of  nature :  moon, 
plant,  gas,  crystal,  are  concrete  geometry  and  num- 


152  NATURE. 

bers.  Common  sense  knows  its  own,  and  recog 
nizes  the  fact  at  first  sight  in  chemical  experiment. 
The  common  sense  of  Franklin,  Dalton,  Davy,  and 
Black,  is  the  same  common  sense  which  made  the 
arrangements  which  now  it  discovers. 

If  the  identity  expresses  organized  rest,  the 
counter  action  runs  also  into  organization.  The 
astronomers  said,  '  Give  us  matter,  and  a  little  mo 
tion,  and  we  will  construct  the  universe.  It  is  not 
enough  that  we  should  have  matter,  we  mnst  also 
have  a  single  impulse,  one  shove  to  launch  the 
mass,  and  generate  the  harmony  of  the  centrifugal 
and  centripetal  forces.  Once  heave  the  ball  from 
the  hand,  and  we  can  show  how  all  this  mighty  or 
der  grew.' — 'A  very  umreasonable  postulate,'  said 
the  metaphysicians,  c  and  a  plain  begging  of  the 
question.  Could  you  not  prevail  to  know  the  gene 
sis  of  projection,  as  well  as  the  continuation  of  it  ? ' 
Nature,  meanwhile,  had  not  waited  for  the  discus 
sion,  but,  right  or  wrong,  bestowed  the  impulse,  and 
the  balls  rolled.  It  was  no  great  affair,  a  mere 
push,  but  the  astronomers  were  right  in  making 
much  of  it,  for  there  is  no  end  to  the  consequences 
of  the  act.  That  famous  aboriginal  push  propa 
gates  itself  through  all  the  balls  of  the  system,  and 
through  every  atom  of  every  ball,  through  all  the 
races  of  creatures,  and  through  the  history  and  per 
formances  of  every  individual.  Exaggeration  is  in 
the  course  of  things.  Nature  sends  no  creature,  no 
man  into  the  world,  without  adding  a  small  excess 


NATURE.  153 

of  his  proper  quality.  Given  the  planet,  it  is  still 
necessary  to  add  the  impulse  ;  so,  to  every  creature 
nature  added  a  little  violence  of  direction  in  its  prop 
er  path,  a  shove  to  put  it  on  its  way ;  in  every  in 
stance,  a  slight  generosity,  a  drop  too  much.  With 
out  electricity  the  air  would  rot,  and  without  this 
violence  of  direction,  which  men  and  women  have, 
without  a  spice  of  bigot  and  fanatic,  no  excitement, 
no  efficiency.  We  aim  above  the  mark,  to  hit  the 
mark.  Every  act  hath  some  falsehood  of  exaggera 
tion  in  it.  And  when  now  and  then  comes  along 
some  sad,  sharp-eyed  man,  who  sees  how  paltry  a 
game  is  played,  and  refuses  to  play,  but  blabs  the 
secret ; — how  then  ?  is  the  bird  flown  ?  O  no,  the 
wary  Nature  sends  a  new  troop  of  fairer  forms,  of 
lordlier  youths,  with  a  little  more  excess  of  direc 
tion  to  hold  them  fast  to  their  several  aim  ;  makes 
them  a  little  wrongheaded  in  that  direction  in  which 
they  are  rightest,  and  on  goes  the  game  again  with 
new  whirl,  for  a  generation  or  two  more.  The 
child  with  his  sweet  pranks,  the  fool  of  his  senses, 
commanded  by  every  sight  and  sound,  without  any 
power  to  compare  and  rank  his  sensations,  aban 
doned  to  a  whistle  or  a  painted  chip,  to  a  lead  dra 
goon,  or  a  gingerbread-dog,  individualizing  every 
thing,  generalizing  nothing,  delighted  with  every 
new  thing,  lies  down  at  night  overpowered  by  the 
fatigue,  which  this  day  of  continual  pretty  madness 
has  incurred.  But  Nature  has  answered  her  pur 
pose  with  the  curly,  dimpled  lunatic.  She  has 


154  NATURE. 

tasked  every  faculty,  and  has  secured  the  symmet 
rical  growth  of  the  bodily  frame,  by  all  these  atti 
tudes  and  exertions, — an  end  of  the  first  importance, 
which  could  not  be  trusted  to  any  care  less  perfect 
than  her  own.  This  glitter,  this  opaline  lustre  plays 
round  the  top  of  every  toy  to  his  eye,  to  ensure  his 
fidelity,  and  he  is  deceived  to  his  good.  We  are 
made  alive  and  kept  alive  by  the  same  arts.  Let 
the  stoics  say  what  they  please,  we  do  not  eat  for 
the  good  of  living,  but  because  the  meat  is  savory 
and  the  appetite  is  keen.  The  vegetable  life  does 
not  content  itself  with  casting  from  the  flower  or 
the  tree  a  single  seed,  but  it  fills  the  air  and  earth 
with  a  prodigality  of  seeds,  that,  if  thousands  per 
ish,  thousands  may  plant  themselves,  that  hun 
dreds  may  come  up,  that  tens  may  live  to  matu 
rity,  that,  at  least,  one  may  replace  the  parent.  All 
things  betray  the  same  calculated  profusion.  The 
excess  of  fear  with  which  the  animal  frame  is  hedged 
round,  shrinking  from  cold,  starting  at  sight  of  a 
snake,  or  at  a  sudden  noise,  protects  us,  through  a 
multitude  of  groundless  alarms,  from  some  one 
real  danger  at  last.  The  lover  seeks  in  marriage  his 
private  felicity  and  perfection,  with  no  prospective 
end ;  and  nature  hides  in  his  happiness  her  own  end, 
namely,  progeny,  or  the  perpetuity  of  the  race. 

But  the  craft  with  which  the  world  is  made,  runs 
also  into  the  mind  and  character  of  men.  No  man 
is  quite  sane  ;  each  has  a  vein  of  folly  in  his  compo 
sition,  a  slight  determination  of  blood  to  the  head, 


NATURE.  155 

to  make  sure  of  holding  him  hard  to  some  one  point 
which  nature  had  taken  to  heart.  Great  causes  are 
never  tried  on  their  merits  ;  but  the  cause  is  reduced 
to  particulars  to  suit  the  size  of  the  partisans,  and 
the  contention  is  ever  hottest  on  minor  matters. 
Not  less  remarkable  is  the  overfaith  of  each  man  in 
the  importance  of  what  he  has  to  do  or  say.  The 
poet,  the  prophet,  has  a  higher  value  for  what  he 
utters  than  any  hearer,  and  therefore  it  gets  spoken. 
The  strong,  self-complacent  Luther  declares  with  an 
emphasis,  not  to  be  mistaken,  that  "  God  himself 
cannot  do  without  wise  men."  Jacob  Behmen  and 
George  Fox  betray  their  egotism  in  the  pertinacity 
of  their  controversial  tracts,  and  James  Kay  lor  once 
suffered  himself  to  be  worshipped  as  the  Christ. 
Each  prophet  comes  presently  to  identify  himself 
with  his  thought,  and  to  esteem  his  hat  and  shoes 
sacred.  However  this  may  discredit  such  persons 
with  the  judicious,  it  helps  them  with  the  people, 
as  its  gives  heat,  pungency,  and  publicity  to  their 
words.  A  similar  experience  is  not  infrequent  in 
private  life.  Each  young,  and  ardent  person  writes 
a  diary,  in  which,  when  the  hours  of  prayer  and 
penitence  arrive,  he  inscribes  his  soul.  The  pages 
thus  written  are,  to  him,  burning  and  fragrant :  he 
reads  them  on  his  knees  by  midnight  and  by  the 
morning  star ;  he  wets  them  with  his  tears :  they 
are  sacred ;  too  good  for  the  world,  and  hardly  yet 
to  be  shown  to  the  dearest  friend.  This  is  the  man- 
child  that  is  born  to  the  soul,  and  her  life  still  cir- 


156  NATUH& 

culates  in  the  babe.  The  umbilical  cord  has  not  yet 
been  cut.  After  some  time  has  elapsed,  he  begins 
to  wish  to  admit  his  friend  to  this  hallowed  experi 
ence,  and  with  hesitation,  yet  with  firmness,  exposes 
the  pages  to  his  eye.  Will  they  not  burn  his  eyes  ? 
The  friend  coldly  turns  them  over,  and  passes  from 
the  writing  to  conversation,  with  easy  transition, 
which  strikes  the  other  party  with  astonishment  and 
vexation.  He  cannot  suspect  the  writing  itself. 
Days  and  nights  of  fervid  life,  of  communion  with 
angels  of  darkness  and  of  light,  have  engraved  their 
shadowy  characters  on  that  tear-stained  book.  He 
suspects  the  intelligence  or  the  heart  of  his  friend. 
Is  there  then  no  friend  ?  He  cannot  yet  credit  that 
one  may  have  impressive  experience,  and  yet  may 
not  know  how  to  put  his  private  fact  into  literature ; 
and  perhaps  the  discovery  that  wisdom  has  other 
tongues  and  ministers  than  we,  that  though  we 
should  hold  our  peace,  the  truth  would  not  the  less 
be  spoken,  might  check  injuriously  the  flames  of 
our  zeal.  A  man  can  only  speak,  so  long  as  he  does 
not  feel  his  speech  to  be  partial  and  inadequate.  It 
is  partial,  but  he  does  not  see  it  to  be  so,  whilst  he 
utters  it.  As  soon  as  he  is  released  from  the  in 
stinctive  and  particular,  and  sees  its  partiality,  he 
shuts  his  mouth  in  disgust.  For,  no  man  can  write 
anything,  who  does  not  think  that  what  he  writes 
is  for  the  time  the  history  of  the  world  ;  or  do  any 
thing  well,  who  does  not  esteem  his  work  to  be  of 
importance.  My  work  may  be  of  none,  but  I  must 


NATURE.  157 

not  think  it  of  none,  or  I  shall  not  do  it  with  im 
punity. 

In  like  manner,  there  is  throughout  nature  some 
thing  mocking,  something'  that  leads  us  on  and  on, 
but  arrives  nowhere,  keeps  no  faith  with  us.  All 
promise  outruns  the  performance.  We  live  in  a 
system  of  approximations.  Every  end  is  prospec 
tive  of  some  other  end,  which  is  also  temporary  ;  a 
round  and  final  success  nowhere.  We  are  encamped 
in  nature,  not  domesticated.  Hunger  and  thirst  lead 
us  on  to  eat  and  to  drink  ;  but  bread  and  wine,  mix 
and  cook  them  how  you  will,  leave  us  hungry  and 
thirsty,  after  the  stomach  is  full.  It  is  the  same 
with  all  our  arts  and  performances.  Our  music,  our 
poetry,  our  language  itself  are  not  satisfactions,  but 
suggestions.  The  hunger  for  wealth,  which  re 
duces  the  planet  to  a  garden,  fools  the  eager  pur 
suer.  What  is  the  end  sought?  Plainly  to  secure 
the  ends  of  good  sense  and  beauty,  from  the  intrusion 
of  deformity  or  vulgarity  of  any  kind.  But  what 
on  operose  method  !  What  a  train  of  means  to  se 
cure  a  little  conversation  !  This  palace  of  brick  and 
stone,  these  servants,  this  kitchen,  these  stables, 
horses  and  equipage,  this  bank-stock,  and  file  of 
mortgages;  trade  to  all  the  world,  country-house 
and  cottage  by  the  waterside,  all  for  a  little  convex 
sation,  high,  clear,  and  spiritual  !  Could  it  not  be 
had  as  well  by  beggars  on  the  highway  ?  No,  all 
these  things  came  from  successive  efforts  of  these 
beggars  to  remove  friction  from  the  wheels  of  life, 


158  NATURE. 

and  give  opportunity.  Conversation, 
were  the  avowed  ends ;  wealth  was  good  as  it  ap 
peased  the  animal  cravings,  cured  the  smoky  chim 
ney,  silenced  the  creaking  door,  brought  friends  to 
gether  in  a  warm  and  quiet  room,  and  kept  the  chil 
dren  and  the  dinner-table  in  a  different  apartment. 
Thought,  virtue,  beauty,  were  the  ends  ;  but  it  was 
known  that  men  of  thought  and  virtue  sometimes 
had  the  headache,  or  wet  feet,  or  could  lose  good 
time  whilst  the  room  was  getting  warm  in  winter 
days.  Unluckily,  in  the  exertions  necessary  to  re 
move  these  inconveniences,  the  main  attention  has 
been  diverted  to  this  object ;  the  old  aims  have  been 
lost  sight  of,  and  to  remove  friction  has  come  to  be 
the  end.  That  is  the  ridicule  of  rich  men,  and  Bos 
ton,  London,  Yienna,  and  now  the  governments  gen 
erally  of  the  world,  are  cities  and  governments  of  the 
rich,  and  the  masses  are  not  men,  but  poor  men,  that 
is,  men  who  would  be  rich  ;  this  is  the  ridicule  of  the 
class,  that  they  arrive  with  pains  and  sweat  and  fury 
nowhere  ;  when  all  is  done,  it  is  for  nothing.  They 
are  like  one  who  has  interrupted  the  conversation  of 
a  company  to  make  his  speech,  and  now  has  forgot 
ten  what  he  went  to  say.  The  appearance  strikes 
the  eye  everywhere  of  an  aimless  society,  of  aim 
less  nations.  Were  the  ends  of  nature  so  great  and 
cogent,  as  to  exact  this  immense  sacrifice  of  men  ? 

Quite  analogous  to  the  deceits  in  life,  there  is,  as 
might  be  expected,  a  similar  effect  on  the  eye  from 
the  face  of  external  nature.  There  is  in  woods  and 


NATURE.  159 

waters  a  certain  enticement  and  flattery,  together 
with  a  failure  to  yield  a  present  satisfaction.  This 
disappointment  is  felt  in  every  landscape.  I  have 
seen  the  softness  and  beauty  of  the  summer-clouds 
floating  feathery  overhead,  enjoying,  as  it  seemed, 
their  height  and  privilege  of  motion,  whilst  yet  they 
appeared  not  so  much  the  drapery  of  this  place  and 
hour,  as  forelooking  to  some  pavilions  and  gardens 
of  festivity  beyond.  It  is  an  odd  jealousy  :  but  the 
poet  finds  himself  not  near  enough  to  his  object. 
The  pine-tree,  the  river,  the  bank  of  flowers  before 
him,  does  not  seem  to  be  nature.  Nature  is  still 
elsewhere.  This  or  this  is  but  outskirt  and  far-off 
reflection  and  echo  of  the  triumph  that  has  passed 
by,  and  is  now  at  its  glancing  splendor  and  heyday, 
perchance  in  the  neighboring  fields,  or,  if  you  stand 
in  the  field,  then  in  the  adjacent  woods.  The  pres 
ent  object  shall  give  you  this  sense  of  stillness  that 
follows  a  pageant  which  has  just  gone  by.  What 
splendid  distance,  what  recesses  of  ineffable  pomp  and 
loveliness  in  the  sunset !  But  who  can  go  where 
they  are,  or  lay  his  hand  or  plant  his  foot  thereon  ? 
Off  they  fall  from  the  round  world  forever  and  ever. 
It  is  the  same  among  the  men  and  women,  as  among 
the  silent  trees,  always  a  referred  existence,  an  ab 
sence,  never  a  presence  and  satisfaction.  Is  it,  that 
beauty  can  never  be  grasped  ?  in  persons  and  in 
landscape  is  equally  inaccessible  ?  The  accepted  and 
betrothed  lover  has  lost  the  wildest  charm  of  his 
maiden  in  her  acceptance  of  him.  She  was  heaven 


160  NATURE. 

whilst   he  pursued  her  as   a  star :  she  cannot  be 
heaven,  if  she  stoops  to  such  a  one  as  he. 

What  shall  we  say  of  this  omnipresent  appearance 
of  that  first  projectile  impulse,  of  this  flattery  and 
balking  of  so  many  well-meaning  creatures  ?  Must 
we  not  suppose  somewhere  in  the  universe  a  slight 
treachery  and  derision  ?  Are  we  not  engaged  to  a 
serious  resentment  of  this  use  that  is  made  of  us  ? 
Are  we  tickled  trout,  and  fools  of  nature  ?  One 
look  at  the  face  of  heaven  and  earth  lays  all  petu 
lance  at  rest,  and  soothes  us  to  wiser  convictions. 
To  the  intelligent,  nature  converts  itself  into  a  vast 
promise,  and  will  not  be  rashly  explained.  Her 
secret  is  untold.  Many  and  many  an  CEdipus  ar 
rives:  he  has  the  whole  mystery  teeming  in  his 
brain.  Alas !  the  same  sorcery  has  spoiled  his 
skill ;  no  syllable  can  he  shape  on  his  lips.  Her 
mighty  orbit  vaults  like  the  fresh  rainbow  into 
the  deep,  but  no  archangel's  wing  was  yet  strong 
enough  to  follow  it,  and  report  of  the  return  of  the 
curve.  But  it  also  appears,  that  our  actions  are 
seconded  and  disposed  to  greater  conclusions  than 
we  designed.  "We  are  escorted  on  every  hand 
through  life  by  spiritual  agents,  and  a  beneficent 
purpose  lies  in  wait  for  us.  We  cannot  bandy 
words  with  nature,  or  deal  with  her  as  we  deal 
with  persons.  If  we  measure  our  individual  forces 
against  hers,  we  may  easily  feel  as  if  we  were  the 
sport  of  an  insuperable  destiny.  But  if,  instead  of 
identifying  ourselves  with  the  work,  we  feel  that 


NATURE.  161 

the  soul  of  the  workman  streams  through  us,  we 
shall  find  the  peace  of  the  morning  dwelling  first  in 
our  hearts,  and  the  fathomless  powers  of  gravity 
and  chemistry,  and,  over  them,  of  life,  preexisting 
within  us  in  their  highest  form. 

The  uneasiness  which  the  thought  of  our  help 
lessness  in  the  chain  of  causes  occasions  us,  results 
from  looking  too  much  at  one  condition  of  nature, 
namely,  Motion.  But  the  drag  is  never  taken  from 
the  wheel.  Wherever  the  impulse  exceeds,  the 
Rest  or  Identity  insinuates  its  compensation.  All 
over  the  wide  fields  of  earth  grows  the  prunella  or 
self-heal.  After  every  foolish  day  we  sleep  off  the 
fumes  and  furies  of  its  hours ;  and  though  we  are 
always  engaged  with  particulars,  and  often  enslaved 
to  them,  we  bring  with  us  to  every  experiment  the 
innate  universal  laws.  These,  while  they  exist  in 
the  mind  as  ideas,  stand  around  us  in  nature  forever 
embodied,  a  present  sanity  to  expose  and  cure  the 
insanity  of  men.  Our  servitude  to  particulars  be 
trays  into  a  hundred  foolish  expectations.  We  an 
ticipate  a  new  era  fom  the  invention  of  a  locomo 
tive,  or  a  balloon  ;  the  new  engine  brings  with  it 
the  old  checks.  They  say  that  by  electro-magnet 
ism,  your  salad  shall  be  grown  from  the  seed, 
whilst  your  fowl  is  roasting  for  dinner  :  it  is  a 
symbol  of  our  modern  aims  and  endeavors, — of  our 
condensation  and  acceleration  of  objects:  but  noth 
ing  is  gained  :  nature  cannot  be  cheated  :  man's  life 
is  but  seventy  salads  long,  grow  they  swift  or  grow 
11 


162  NATURE. 

they  slow.  In  these  checks  and  impossibilities, 
however,  we  find  our  advantage,  not  less  than  in  the 
impulses.  Let  the  victory  fall  where  it  will,  we  are 
on  that  side.  And  the  knowledge  that  we  traverse 
the  whole  scale  of  being,  from  the  centre  to  the 
poles  of  nature,  and  have  some  stake  in  every  pos 
sibility,  lends  that  sublime  lustre  to  death,  which 
philosophy  and  religion  have  too  outwardly  and 
literally  striven  to  express  in  the  popular  doctrine 
of  the  immortality  of  the  soul.  The  reality  is  more 
excellent  than  the  report.  Here  is  no  ruin,  no  dis 
continuity,  no  spent  ball.  The  divine  circulations 
never  rest  nor  linger.  Nature  is  the  incarnation  of 
a  thought,  and  turns  to  a  thought,  again,  as  ice  be 
comes  water  and  gas.  The  world  is  mind  precipi 
tated,  and  the  volatile  essence  is  forever  escaping 
again  into  the  state  of  free  thought.  Hence  the 
virtue  and  pungency  of  the  influence  on  the  mind, 
of  natural  objects,  whether  inorganic  or  organized. 
Man  imprisoned,  man  crystallized,  man  vegetative, 
speaks  to  man  impersonated.  That  power  which 
does  not  respect  quantity,  which  makes  the  whole  and 
the  particle  its  equal  channel,  delegates  its  smile  to 
the  morning,  and  distils  its  essence  into  every  drop 
of  rain.  Every  moment  instructs,  and  every  object : 
for  wisdom  is  infused  into  every  form.  It  has  been 
poured  into  us  as  blood  ;  it  convulsed  us  as  pain  ;  it 
slid  into  us  as  pleasure  ;  it  enveloped  us  in  dull, 
melancholy  days,  or  in  days  of  cheerful  labor ;  we 
did  not  guess  its  essence,  until  after  a  long  time. 


POLITICS. 


Gold  and  iron  are  good 

To  buy  iron  and  gold  ; 

All  earth's  fleece  and  food 

For  their  like  are  sold. 

Boded  Merlin  wise, 

Proved  Napoleon  great, — 

Nor  kind  nor  coinage  buys 

Aught  above  its  rate. 

Fear,  Craft,  and  Avarice 

Cannot  rear  a  State. 

Out  of  dust  to  build 

Wha1  is  more  than  dust,— 

Walls  Amphion  piled 

Phoebus  stablish  must. 

When  the  Muses  nine 

With  the  Virtues  meet. 

Find  to  their  design 

An  Atlantic  seat, 

By  green  orchard  boughs 

Fended  from  the  heat, 

Where  the  statesman  ploughs 

Furrow  for  the  wheat ; 

When  the  Church  is  social  worth, 

When  the  state -house  is  the  hearth, 

Then  the  perfect  State  is  come, 

The  republican  at  home. 


164:  POLITICS. 

IN  dealing  with  the  State,  we  ought  to  remember 
that  its  institutions  are  not  aboriginal,  though  they 
existed  before  we  were  born :  that  they  are  not  su 
perior  to  the  citizen  :  that  every  one  of  them  was 
once  the  act  of  a  single  man :  every  law  and  usage 
was  a  man's  expedient  to  meet  a  particular  case  ;  that 
they  all  are  imitable,  all  alterable  ;  we  may  make  as 
good  ;  we  may  make  better.  Society  is  an  illusion 
to  the  young  citizen.  It  lies  before  him  in  rigid 
repose,  with  certain  names,  men,  and  institutions, 
rooted  like  oak-trees  to  the  centre,  round  which  all 
arrange  themselves  the  best  they  can.  But  the  old 
statesman  knows  that  society  is  fluid  ;  there  are  no 
such  roots  and  centres ;  but  any  particle  may  sud 
denly  become  the  centre  of  the  movement,  and 
compel  the  system  to  gyrate  round  it,  as  every 
man  of  strong  will,  like  Pisistratus,  or  Cromwell, 
does  for  a  time,  and  every  man  of  truth,  like  Plato, 
or  Paul,  does  forever.  But  politics  rest  on  neces 
sary  foundations,  and  cannot  be  treated  with  levity. 
Republics  abound  in  young  civilians,  who  believe 
that  the  laws  make  the  city,  that  grave  modifica 
tions  of  the  policy  and  modes  of  living,  and  employ 
ments  of  the  population,  that  commerce,  education, 
and  religion,  may  be  voted  in  or  out ;  and  that 
any  measure,  though  it  were  absurd,  may  be  im 
posed  on  a  people,  if  only  you  can  get  sufficient 
voices  to  make  it  a  law.  But  the  wise  know  that 
foolish  legislation  is  a  rope  of  sand,  which  perishes 
in.  the  twisting  ;  that  the  State  must  follow,  and  not 


POLITICS.  1G5 

lead  the  character  and  progress  of  the  citizen  ;  the 
strongest  usurper  is  quickly  got  rid  of ;  and  they 
only  who  built  on  Ideas,  build  for  eternity  ;  and 
that  the  form  of  government  which  prevails,  is  the 
expression  of  what  cultivation  exists  in  the  popu 
lation  which  permits  it.  The  law  is  only  a  mem 
orandum.  We  are  superstitions,  and  esteem  the 
statute  somewhat:  so  much  life  as  it  has  in  the 
character  of  living  men,  is  its  force.  The  statute 
stands  there  to  say,  yesterday  we  agreed  so  and  so, 
but  how  feel  ye  this  article  to-day  ?  Our  statute  is 
a  currency,  which  we  stamp  with  our  own  portrait: 
it  soon  becomes  unrecognizable,  and  in  process  of 
time  will  return  to  the  mint.  Nature  is  not  demo 
cratic,  nor  limited  monarchical,  but  despotic,  and 
will  not  be  fooled  or  abated  of  any  jot  of  her  au 
thority,  by  the  pertest  of  her  sons :  and  as  fast 
as  the  public  mind  is  opened  to  more  intelli 
gence,  the  code  is  seen  to  be  brute  and  stammering. 
It  speaks  not  articulately,  and  must  be  made  to. 
Meantime  the  education  of  the  general  mind  never 
stops.  The  reveries  of  the  true  and  simple  are 
prophetic.  What  the  tender  poetic  youth  dreams, 
and  prays,  and  paints  to  day,  but  shuns  the  ridicule 
of  saying  aloud,  shall  presently  be  the  resolutions  of 
public  bodies,  then  shall  be  carried  as  grievance  and 
bill  of  rights  through  conflict  and  war,  and  then 
shall  be  triumphant  law  and  establishment  for  a 
hundred  years,  until  it  gives  place,  in  turn,  to  new 
prayers  and  pictures.  The  history  of  the  State 


106  POLITICS. 

sketches  in  coarse  outline  the  progress  of  thought, 
and  follows  at  a  distance  the  delicacy  of  culture  and 
of  aspiration. 

The  theory  of  politics,  which  has  possessed  the 
mind  of  men,  and  which  they  have  expressed  the 
best  they  could  in  their  laws  and  in  their  re  volutions, 
considers  persons  and  property  as  the  two  objects 
for  whose  protection  government  exists.  Of  per 
sons,  all  have  equal  rights,  in  virtue  of  being  iden 
tical  in  nature.  This  interest,  of  course,  with  its 
whole  power  demands  a  democracy.  Whilst  the 
rights  of  all  as  persons  are  equal,  in  virtue  of  their 
access  to  reason,  their  rights  in  property  are  very 
unequal.  One  man  owns  his  clothes,  and  another 
owns  a  county.  This  accident,  depending,  prima 
rily,  on  the  skill  and  virtue  of  the  parties,  of  which 
there  is  every  degree,  and  secondarily,  on  patri 
mony,  falls  unequally,  and  its  rights,  of  course,  are 
unequal.  Personal  rights,  universally  the  same,  de 
mand  a  government  framed  on  the  ratio  of  the  cen 
sus  :  property  demands  a  government  framed  on  the 
ratio  of  owners  and  of  owning.  Laban,  who  has 
flocks  and  herds,  wishes  them  looked  after  by  an 
officer  on  the  frontiers,  lest  the  Midianites  shall 
drive  them  off,  and  pays  a  tax  to  that  end.  Jacob 
has  no  flocks  or  herds,  and  no  fear  of  the  Midianites, 
and  pays  no  tax  to  the  officer.  It  seemed  fit  that 
Laban  and  Jacob  should  have  equal  rights  to  elect 
the  officer,  who  is  to  defend  their  persons,  but  that 
Laban  and  not  Jacob,  should  elect  the  officer  who 


POLITICS.  107 

is  to  guard  the  sheep  and  cattle.  And,  if  question 
arise  whether  additional  officers  or  watch-towers 
should  be  provided,  must  not  Laban  and  Isaac,  and 
those  who  must  sell  part  of  their  herds  to  buy  pro 
tection  for  the  rest,  judge  better  of  this,  and  with 
more  right,  than  Jacob,  who,  because  he  is  a  youth 
and  a  traveller,  eats  their  bread  and  not  his  own. 

In  the  earliest  society  the  proprietors  made  their 
own  wealth,  and  so  long  as  it  comes  to  the  owners 
in  the  direct  way,  no  other  opinion  would  arise  in 
any  equitable  community,  than  that  property  should 
make  the  law  for  property,  and  persons  the  law  for 
persons. 

But  property  passes  through  donation  or  inheri 
tance  to  those  who  do  not  create  it.  Gift,  in  one 
case,  makes  it  as  really  the  new  owner's,  as  labor 
made  it  the  first  owner's  :  in  the  other  case,  of  patri 
mony,  the  law  makes  an  ownership,  which  will  be 
valid  in  each  man's  view  according  to  the  estimate 
which  he  sets  on  the  public  tranquillity. 

It  was  not,  however,  found  easy  to  embody  the 
readily  admitted  principle,  that  property  should 
make  law  for  property,  and  persons  for  persons : 
since  persons  and  property  mixed  themselves  in 
every  transaction.  At  last  it  seemed  settled,  that 
the  rightful  distinction  was,  that  the  proprietors 
should  have  more  elective  franchise  than  non  pro 
prietors,  on  the  Spartan  principle  of  "  calling  that 
which  is  just,  equal ;  not  that  which  is  equal,  just." 

That  principle  no  longer  looks  so  self-evident  as 


168  POLITICS. 

it  appeared  in  former  times,  partly,  because  doubts 
have  arisen  whether  too  much  weight  had  not  been 
allowed  in  the  laws,  to  property,  and  such  a  structure 
given  to  our  usages,  as  allowed  the  rich  to  encroach 
on  the  poor,  and  to  keep  them  poor ;  but  mainly, 
because  there  is  an  instinctive  sense,  however  ob 
scure  and  yet  inarticulate,  that  the  whole  constitu 
tion  of  property,  on  its  present  tenures,  is  injurious, 
and  its  influence  on  persons  deteriorating  and  de 
grading  ;  that  truly,  the  only  interest  for  the  con 
sideration  of  the  State,  is  persons ;  that  property 
will  always  follow  persons  ;  that  the  highest  end  of 
government  is  the  culture  of  men  :  and  if  men  can 
be  educated,  the  institutions  will  share  their  im 
provement,  and  the  moral  sentiment  will  write  the 
law  of  the  land. 

If  it  be  not  easy  to  settle  the  equity  of  this  ques 
tion,  the  peril  is  less  when  we  take  note  of  our  nat 
ural  defences.  We  are  kept  by  better  guards  than 
the  vigilance  of  such  magistrates  as  we  commonly 
elect.  Society  always  consists,  in  greatest  part,  of 
young  and  foolish  persons.  The  old,  who  have  seen 
through  the  hypocrisy  of  courts  and  statesmen,  die, 
and  leave  no  wisdom  to  their  sons.  They  believe 
their  own  newspaper,  as  their  fathers  did  at  their 
age.  With  such  an  ignorant  and  deceivable  ma 
jority,  States  would  soon  run  to  ruin,  but  that  there 
are  limitations,  beyond  wkich  the  folly  and  ambi 
tion  of  governors  cannot  go.  Things  have  their 
laws,  as  well  as  men  ;  and  things  refuse  to  be  trifled 


POLITICS. 

with.  Property  will  be  protected.  Corn  will  not 
grow,  unless  it  is  planted  and  manured ;  but  the 
fanner  will  not  plant  or  hoe  it,  unless  the  chances 
are  a  hundred  to  one,  that  he  will  cut  and  harvest 
it.  Under  any  forms,  persons  and  property  must 
and  will  have  their  just  sway.  They  exert  their 
power,  as  steadily  as  matter  its  attraction.  Cover  up 
a  pound  of  earth  never  so  cunningly,  divide  and  sub 
divide  it ;  melt  it  to  liquid,  convert  it  to  gas ;  it  will 
always  weigh  a  pound :  it  will  always  attract  and 
resist  other  matter,  by  the  full  virtue  of  one  pound 
weight ; — and  the  attributes  of  a  person,  his  wit  and 
his  moral  energy,  will  exercise,  under  any  law  or 
extinguishing  tyranny,  their  proper  force, — if  not 
overtly,  then  covertly  ;  if  not  for  the  law,  then 
against  it ;  with  right,  or  by  might. 

The  boundaries  of  personal  influence  it  is  impos 
sible  to  fix,  as  persons  are  organs  of  moral  or  su 
pernatural  force.  Under  the  dominion  of  an  idea, 
which  possesses  the  minds  of  multitudes,  as  civil 
freedom,  or  the  religious  sentiment,  the  powers  of 
persons  are  no  longer  subjects  of  calculation.  A  na 
tion  of  men  unanimously  bent  on  freedom,  or  con 
quest,  can  easily  confound  the  arithmetic  of  statists, 
and  achieve  extravagant  actions,  out  of  all  propor 
tion  to  their  means ;  as,  the  Greeks,  the  Saracens, 
the  Swiss,  the  Americans,  and  the  French  have 
done. 

In  like  manner,  to  every  particle  of  property  be 
longs  its  own  attraction.  A  cent  is  the  representa- 


170  POLITICS. 

tive  of  a  certain  quantity  of  corn  or  other  cornmod 
ity.  Its  value  is  in  the  necessities  of  the  animal 
man.  It  is  so  much  warmth,  so  much  bread,  so 
much  water,  so  much  land.  The  law  may  do  what 
it  will  with  the  owner  of  property,  its  just  power 
will  still  attach  to  the  cent.  The  law  may  in  a  mad 
freak  say,  that  all  shall  have  power  except  the  own 
ers  of  property :  they  shall  have  no  vote.  Never 
theless,  by  a  higher  law,  the  property  will,  year  af 
ter  year,  write  every  statute  that  respects  property. 
The  non-proprietor  will  be  the  scribe  of  the  proprie 
tor.  What  the  owners  wish  to  do,  the  whole  power 
of  property  will  do,  either  through  the  law,  or  else 
in  defiance  of  it.  Of  course,  I  speak  of  all  the 
property,  not  merely  of  the  great  estates.  When 
the  rich  are  outvoted,  as  frequently  happens,  it  is 
the  joint  treasury  of  the  poor  which  exceeds  their 
accumulations.  Every  man  owns  something,  if  it  is 
only  a  cow,  or  a  wheelbarrow,  or  his  arms,  and  so 
has  that  property  to  dispose  of. 

The  same  necessity  which  secures  the  rights  of 
person  and  property  against  the  malignity  or  folly 
of  the  magistrate,  determines  the  form  and  meth 
ods  of  governing,  which  are  proper  to  each  nation, 
and  to  its  habit  of  thought,  and  nowise  transferable 
to  other  states  of  society.  In  this  country,  we  are 
very  vain  of  our  political  institutions,  which  are 
singular  in  this,  that  they  sprung,  within  the  mem 
ory  of  living  men,  from  the  character  and  condition 
of.  the  people,  which  they  still  express  with  suffi- 


POLITICS.  171 

cient  fidelity, — and  we  ostentatiously  prefer  them 
to  any  other  in  history.  They  are  not  better,  but 
only  fitter  for  us.  We  may  be  wise  in  asserting  the 
advantage  in  modern  times  of  the  democratic  form, 
but  to  other  states  of  society,  in  which  religion  con 
secrated  the  monarchical,  that  and  not  this  was  ex 
pedient.  Democracy  is  better  for  us,  because  the 
religious  sentiment  of  the  present  time  accords  bet 
ter  with  it.  Born  democrats,  we  are  nowise  quali 
fied  to  judge  of  monarchy,  which,  to  our  fathers 
living  in  the  monarchical  idea,  was  also  relatively 
right.  But  our  institutions,  though  in  coincidence 
with  the  spirit  of  the  age,  have  not  any  exemption 
from  the  practical  defects  which  have  discredited 
other  forms.  Every  actual  State  is  corrupt.  Good 
men  must  not  obey  the  laws  too  well.  What  satire 
on  government  can  equal  the  severity  of  censure 
conveyed  in  the  word  politic,  which  now  for  ages 
has  signified  cunning,  intimating  that  the  State  is 
a  trick  ? 

The  same  benign  necessity  and  the  same  practi 
cal  abuse  appear  in  the  parties  into  which  each 
State  divides  itself,  of  opponents  and  defenders  of 
the  administration  of  the  government.  Parties  are 
also  founded  on  instincts,  and  have  better  guides  to 
their  own  humble  aims  than  the  sagacity  of  their 
leaders.  They  have  nothing  perverse  in  their  ori 
gin,  but  rudely  mark  some  real  and  lasting  relation. 
We  might  as  wisely  reprove  the  east  wind,  or  the 
frost,  as  a  political  party,  whose  members,  for  the 


172  POLITICS. 

most  part,  could  give  no  account  of  their  position, 
but  stand  for  the  defence  of  those  interests  in 
which  they  Hud  themselves.  Our  quarrel  with 
them  begins,  when  they  quit  this  deep  natural 
ground  at  the  bidding  of  some  leader,  and,  obey 
ing  personal  considerations,  throw  themselves  into 
the  maintenance  and  defence  of  points,  nowise  be 
longing  to  their  system.  A  party  is  perpetually 
corrupted  by  personality.  Whilst  we  absolve  the 
association  from  dishonesty,  we  cannot  extend  the 
same  character  to  their  leaders.  They  reap  the  re 
wards  of  the  docility  and  zeal  of  the  masses  which 
they  direct.  Ordinarily,  our  parties  are  parties  of 
circumstance,  and  not  of  principle  ;  as,  the  planting 
interest  in  conflict  with  the  commercial ;  the  party 
of  capitalists,  and  that  of  operatives ;  parties  which 
are  identical  in  their  moral  character,  and  which 
can  easily  change  ground  with  each  other,  in  the 
support  of  many  of  their  measures.  Parties  of 
principle,  as,  religious  sects,  or  the  party  of  free- 
trade,  of  universal  suffrage,  of  abolition  of  slavery, 
of  abolition  of  capital  punishment,  degenerate  into 
personalities,  or  would  inspire  enthusiasm.  The 
vice  of  our  leading  parties  in  this  country  (which 
may  be  cited  as  a  fair  specimen  of  these  societies 
of  opinion)  is,  that  they  do  not  plant  themselves  on 
the  deep  and  necessary  grounds  to  which  they  are 
respectively  entitled,  but  lash  themselves  to  fury  in 
the  carrying  of  some  local  and  momentary  measure, 
nowise  useful  to  the  commonwealth.  Of  the  two 


POLITICS.  173 

great  parties,  which,  at  this  hour,  almost  share  the 
nation  between  them,  I  should  say,  that,  one  has 
the  best  cause,  and  the  other  contains  the  best  men. 
The  philosopher,  the  poet,  or  the  religions  man, 
will  of  course,  wish  to  cast  his  vote  with  the  demo 
crat,  for  free-trade,  for  wide  suffrage,  for  the  aboli 
tion  of  legal  cruelties  in  the  penal  code,  and  for  fa 
cilitating  in  every  manner  the  access  of  the  young 
and  the  poor  to  the  sources  of  wealth  and  power. 
But  he  can  rarely  accept  the  persons  whom  the  so- 
called  popular  party  propose  to  him  as  representa 
tives  of  these  liberalities.  They  have  not  at  heart 
the  ends  which  give  to  the  name  of  democracy 
what  hope  and  virtue  are  in  it.  The  spirit  of  our 
American  radicalism  is  destructive  and  aimless :  it 
is  not  loving,  it  has  no  ulterior  and  divine  ends ; 
but  is  destructive  only  out  of  hatred  and  selfishness. 
On  the  other  side,  the  conservative  party,  composed 
of  the  most  moderate,  able,  and  cultivated  part  of  the 
population,  is  timid,  and  merely  defensive  of  prop 
erty.  It  vindicates  no  right,  it  aspires  to  no  real 
good,  it  brands  no  crime,  it  proposes  no  generous  pol 
icy,  it  does  not  build,  nor  write,  nor  cherish  the  arts, 
nor  foster  religion,  nor  establish  schools,  nor  en 
courage  science,  nor  emancipate  the  slave,  nor  be 
friend  the  poor,  or  the  Indian,  or  the  immigrant. 
From  neither  party,  when  in  power,  has  the  world 
any  benefit  to  expect  in  science,  art,  or  humanity, 
at  all  commensurate  with  the  resources  of  the  na 
tion. 


174  POLITICS. 

I  do  not  for  these  defects  despair  of  our  republic. 
We  are  not  at  the  mercy  of  any  waves  of  chance. 
In  the  strife  of  ferocious  parties,  human  nature  al 
ways  finds  itself  cherished,  as  the  children  of  the 
convicts  at  Botany  Bay  are  found  to  have  as  healthy 
a  moral  sentiment  as  other  children.  Citizens  of 
feudal  states  are  alarmed  at  our  democratic  institu 
tions  lapsing  into  anarchy  ;  and  the  older  and  more 
cautious  among  ourselves  are  learning  from  Euro 
peans  to  look  with  some  terror  at  our  turbulent  free 
dom.  It  is  said  that  in  our  license  of  construing 
the  Constitution,  and  in  the  despotism  of  public 
opinion,  we  have  no  anchor ;  and  one  foreign  ob 
server  thinks  he  has  found  the  safeguard  in  the 
sanctity  of  Marriage  among  us ;  and  another  thinks 
he  has  found  it  in  our  Calvinism.  Fisher  Ames 
expressed  the  popular  security  more  wisely,  when 
he  compared  a  monarchy  and  a  republic,  saying, 
"  that  a  monarchy  is  a  merchantman,  which  sails 
well,  but  will  sometimes  strike  on  a  rock,  and  go  to 
the  bottom  ;  whilst  a  republic  is  a  raft,  which  would 
never  sink,  but  then  your  feet  are  always  in  water." 
No  forms  can  have  any  dangerous  importance, 
whilst  we  are  befriended  by  the  laws  of  things.  It 
makes  no  difference  how  many  tons  weight  of  at 
mosphere  presses  on  our  heads,  so  long  as  the  same 
pressure  resists  it  within  the  lungs.  Augment  the 
mass  a  thousand  fold,  it  cannot  begin  to  crush  us, 
as  long  as  reaction  is  equal  to  action.  The  fact  of 
two  poles,  of  two  forces,  centripetal  and  centrifugal, 


POLITICS.  175 

is  universal,  and  each  force  by  its  own  activity  de 
velops  the  other.  Wild  liberty  develops  iron  con 
science.  Want  of  liberty,  by  strengthening  law 
and  decorum,  stupefies  conscience.  '  Lynch-law ' 
prevails  only  where  there  is  greater  hardihood  and 
self-subsistency  in  the  leaders.  A  mob  cannot  be  a 
permanency:  everybody's  interest  requires  that  it 
should  not  exist,  and  only  justice  satisfies  all. 

We  must  trust  infinitely  to  the  beneficent  neces 
sity  which  shines  through  all  laws.  Human  nature 
expresses  itself  in  them  as  characteristically  as  in 
statues,  or  songs,  or  railroads,  and  an  abstract  of 
the  codes  of  nations  would  be  a  transcript  of  the 
common  conscience.  Governments  have  their  origin 
in  the  moral  identity  of  men.  Reason  for  one  is 
seen  to  be  reason  for  another,  and  for  every  other. 
There  is  a  middle  measure  which  satisfies  all 
parties,  be  they  never  so  many,  or  so  resolute  for 
their  own.  Every  man  finds  a  sanction  for  his 
simplest  claims  and  deeds  in  decisions  of  his  own 
mind,  which  he  calls  Truth  and  Holiness.  In  these 
decisions  all  the  citizens  find  a  perfect  agreement, 
and  only  in  these ;  not  in  what  is  good  to  eat,  good 
to  wear,  good  use  of  time,  or  what  amount  of  land, 
or  of  public  aid,  each  is  entitled  to  claim.  This 
truth  and  justice  men  presently  endeavor  to  make 
application  of,  to  the  measuring  of  land,  the  ap 
portionment  of  service,  the  protection  of  life  and 
property.  Their  first  endeavors,  no  doubt,  are  very 
Awkward.  Yet  absolute  right  is  the  first  govern- 


176  POLITICS. 

or ;  or,  every  government  is  an  impure  theocracy. 
The  idea,  after  which  each  community  is  aiming  to 
make  and  mend  its  law,  is,  the  will  of  the  wise 
man.  The  wise  man,  it  cannot  find  in  nature,  and 
it  makes  awkward  but  earnest  efforts  to  secure  his 
government  by  contrivance  ;  as,  by  causing  the  en 
tire  people  to  give  their  voices  on  every  measure ; 
or,  by  a  double  choice  to  get  the  representation  of 
the  whole  ;  or,  by  a  selection  of  the  best  citizens  ; 
or,  to  secure  the  advantages  of  efficiency  and  inter 
nal  peace,  by  confiding  the  government  to  one,  who 
may  himself  select  his  agents.  All  forms  of  gov 
ernment  symbolize  an  immortal  government,  com 
mon  to  all  dynasties  and  independent  of  numbers, 
perfect  where  two  men  exist,  perfect  where  there 
is  only 'one  man. 

Everyman's  nature  is  a  sufficient  advertisement 
to  him  of  the  character  of  his  fellows.  My  right 
and  my  wrong,  is  their  right  and  their  wrong. 
Whilst  I  do  what  is  fit  for  me,  and  abstain  from 
what  is  unfit,  my  neighbor  and  I  shall  often  agree 
in  our  means,  and  work  together  for  a  time  to  one 
end.  But  whenever  I  find  my  dominion  over  my 
self  not  sufficient  for  me,  and  undertake  the  direc 
tion  of  him  also,  I  overstep  the  truth,  and  come 
into  false  relations  to  him.  I  may  have  so  much 
more  skill  or  strength  than  he,  that  he  cannot  ex 
press  adequately  his  sense  of  wrong,  but  it  is  a  lie, 
and  hurts  like  a  lie  both  him  and  me.  Love  and 
nature  cannot  maintain  the  assumption  :  it  must  be 


POLITICS.  177 

executed  by  a  practical  lie,  namely,  by  force.  This 
undertaking  for  another,  is  the  blunder  which  stands 
in  colossal  ugliness  in  the  governments  of  the  world. 
It  is  the  same  thing  in  numbers,  as  in  a  pair,  only 
not  quite  so  intelligible.  I  can  see  well  enough  a 
great  difference  between  rny  setting  myself  down  to 
a  self-control,  and  my  going  to  make  somebody  else 
act  after  my  views  :  but  when  a  quarter  of  the  hu 
man  race  assume  to  tell  me  what  I  must  do,  I  may 
be  too  much  disturbed  by  the  circumstances  to  see 
so  clearly  the  absurdity  of  their  command.  There 
fore,  all  public  ends  look  vague  and  quixotic  beside 
private  ones.  For,  any  laws  but  those  which  men 
make  for  themselves,  are  laughable.  If  I  put  my 
self  in  the  place  of  my  child,  and  we  stand  in  one 
thought,  and  see  that  things  are  thus  or  thus,  that 
perception  is  law  for  him  and  me.  We  are  both 
there,  both  act.  But  if,  without  carrying  him  into 
the  thought,  I  look  over  into  his  plot,  and  guessing 
how  it  is  with  him,  ordain  this  or  that,  he  will  never 
obey  me.  This  is  the  history  of  governments, — one 
man  does  something  which  is  to  bind  another.  A 
man  who  cannot  be  acquainted  with  me,  taxes  me ; 
looking  from  afar  at  me,  ordains  that  a  part  of  my 
labor  shall  go  to  this  or  that  whimsical  end,  not  as 
I,  but  as  he  happens  to  fancy.  Behold  the  conse 
quence.  Of  all  debts,  men  are  least  willing  to  pay 
the  taxes.  What  a  satire  is  this  on  government ! 
Everywhere  they  think  they  get  their  money's 
worth,  except  for  these. 
13 


178  POLITICS. 

Hence,  the  less  government  we  have,  the  better, 
— the  fewer  laws,  and  the  less  confided  power.  The 
antidote  to  this  abuse  of  formal  Government,  is,  the 
influence  of  private  character,  the  growth  of  the  In 
dividual  ;  the  reappearance  of  the  principal  to  super 
sede  the  proxy  ;  the  appearance  of  the  wise  man,  of 
whom  the  existing  government,  is,  it  must  be  owned, 
but  a  shabby  imitation.  That  which  all  things  tend 
to  educe,  which  freedom,  cultivation,  intercourse, 
revolutions,  go  to  form  and  deliver,  is  character; 
that  is  the  end  of  nature,  to  reach  unto  this  corona 
tion,  of  her  king.  To  educate  the  wise  man,  the 
State  exists ;  and  with  the  appearance  of  the  wise 
man,  the  State  expires.  The  appearance  of  charac 
ter  makes  the  State  unnecessary.  The  wise  man  is 
the  State.  He  needs  no  army,  fort,  or  navy, — he 
loves  men  too  well  ;  no  bribe,  or  feast,  or  palace,  to 
draw  friends  to  him;  no  vantage  ground,  no  fa 
vorable  circumstance.  He  needs  no  library,  for  he 
has  not  done  thinking ;  no  church,  for  he  is  a 
prophet ;  no  statute  book,  for  he  is  the  law-giver ; 
no  money,  for  he  is  value ;  no  road,  for  he  is  at 
home  where  he  is  ;  no  experience,  for  the  life  of  the 
creator  shoots  through  him  and  looks  from  his  eyes. 
He  has  no  personal  friends,  for  he  who  has  the  spell 
to  draw  the  prayer  and  piety  of  all  men  unto  him, 
needs  not  husband  and  educate  a  few,  to  share  with 
him  a  select  and  poetic  life.  His  relation  to  men 
is  angelic ;  his  memory  is  myrrh  to  them  ;  his  pres 
ence,  frankincense  and  flowers. 


POLITICS.  179 

We  think  our  civilization  near  its  meridian,  but 
we  are  yet  only  at  the  cock-crowing  and  the  morn 
ing  star.  In  our  barbarous  society  the  influence  of 
character  is  in  its  infancy.  As  a  political  power,  as 
the  rightful  lord  who  is  to  tumble  all  rulers  from 
their  chairs,  its  presence  is  hardly  yet  suspected. 
Malthas  and  Ricardo  quite  omit  it ;  the  Annual 
Register  is  silent ;  in  the  Conversations'  Lexicon,  it 
is  not  set  down ;  the  President's  Message,  the 
Queen's  Speech,  have  not  mentioned  it ;  and  yet  it 
is  never  nothing.  Every  thought  which  genius  and 
piety  throw  into  the  world,  alters  the  world.  The 
gladiators  in  the  lists  of  power  feel,  through  all 
their  frocks  of  force  and  simulation,  the  presence  of 
worth.  I  think  the  very  strife  of  trade  and  ambi 
tion  are  confession  of  this  divinity  ;  and  successes 
in  those  fields  are  the  poor  amends,  the  fig-leaf  with 
which  the  shamed  soul  attempts  to  hide  its  naked 
ness.  I  find  the  like  unwilling  homage  in  all  quar 
ters.  It  is  because  we  know  how  much  is  due  from 
us,  that  we  are  impatient  to  show  some  petty  talent 
as  a  substitute  for  worth.  We  are  haunted  by  a 
conscience  of  this  right  to  grandeur  of  character, 
and  are  false  to  it.  But  each  of  us  has  some  tal 
ent,  can  do  somewhat  useful,  or  graceful,  or  for 
midable,  or  amusing,  or  lucrative.  That  we  do,  as 
an  apology  to  others  and  to  ourselves,  for  not  reach 
ing  the  mark  of  a  good  and  equal  life.  But  it  does 
not  satisfy  us,  whilst  we  thrust  it  on  the  notice  of 
our  companions.  It  may  throw  dust  in  their  eyes, 


180  POLITICS. 

but  does  not  smooth  our  own  brow,  or  give  us  the 
tranquillity  of  the  strong  when  we  walk  abroad. 
We  do  penance  as  we  go.  Our  talent  is  a  sort  of 
expiation,  and  we  are  constrained  to  reflect  on  our 
splendid  moment,  with  a  certain  humiliation,  as 
somewhat  too  fine,  and  not  as  one  act  of  many  acts, 
a  fair  expression  of  our  permanent  energy.  Most 
persons  of  ability  meet  in  society  with  a  kind  of 
tacit  appeal.  Each  seems  to  say,  '  I  am  not  all 
here.'  Senators  and  presidents  have  climbed  so 
high  with  pain  enough,  not  because  they  think  the 
place  specially  agreeable,  but  as  an  apology  for  real 
worth,  and  to  vindicate  their  manhood  in  our  eyes. 
This  conspicuous  chair  is  their  compensation  to 
themselves  for  being  of  a  poor,  cold,  hard  nature. 
They  must  do  what  they  can.  Like  one  class  of 
forest  animals,  they  have  nothing  but  a  prehensile 
tail :  climb  they  must,  or  crawl.  If  a  man  found 
himself  so  rich-natured  that  he  could  enter  into 
strict  relations  with  the  best  persons,  and  make  life 
serene  around  him  by  the  dignity  and  sweetness  of 
his  behavior,  could  he  afford  to  circumvent  the  fa 
vor  of  the  caucus  and  the  press,  and  covet  relations 
so  hollow  arid  pompous,  as  those  of  a  politician  ? 
Surely  nobody  would  be  a  charlatan,  who  could  af 
ford  to  be  sincere. 

The  tendencies  of  the  times  favor  the  idea  of 
self  government,  and  leave  the  individual,  for  all 
code,  to  the  rewards  and  penalties  of  his  own  con 
stitution,  which  work  with  more  energy  than  we  be- 


POLITICS,  181 

lieve,  whilst  we  depend  on  artificial  restraints.  The 
movement  in  this  direction  has  been  very  marked 
in  modern  history.  Much  has  been  blind  and  dis 
creditable,  but  the  nature  of  the  revolution  is  not 
affected  by  the  vices  of  the  revolters  ;  for  this  is  a 
purely  moral  force.  It  was  never  adopted  by  any 
party  in  history,  neither  can  be.  It  separates  the 
individual  from  all  party,  and  unites  him,  at  the 
same  time,  to  the  race.  It  promises  a  recognition  of 
higher  rights  than  those  of  personal  freedom,  or  the 
security  of  property.  A  man  has  a  right  to  be  em 
ployed,  to  be  trusted,  to  be  loved,  to  be  revered. 
The  power  of  love,  as  the  basis  of  a  State,  has  never 
been  tried.  We  must  not  imagine  that  all  things 
are  lapsing  into  confusion,  if  every  tender  protes- 
tant  be  not  compelled  to  bear  his  part  in  certain  so 
cial  conventions  :  nor  doubt  that  roads  can  be  built, 
letters  carried,  and  the  fruit  of  labor  secured,  when 
the  government  of  force  is  at  an  end.  Are  our 
methods  now  so  excellent  that  all  competition  is 
hopeless  ?  Could  not  a  nation  of  friends  even  de 
vise  better  ways  ?  On  the  other  hand,  let  not  the 
most  conservative  and  timid  fear  anything  from  a 
premature  surrender  of  the  bayonet,  and  the  system 
of  force.  For,  according  to  the  order  of  nature, 
which  is  quite  superior  to  our  will,  it  stands  thus; 
there  will  always  be  a  government  of  force,  where 
men  are  selfish  ;  and  when  they  are  pure  enough  to 
abjure  the  code  of  force,  they  will  be  wise  enough 
to  see  how  these  public  ends  of  the  post-office,  of 


182  POLITICS. 

the  highway,  of  commerce,  and  the  exchange  of 
property,  of  museums  and  libraries,  of  institutions 
of  art  and  science,  can  be  answered. 

We  live  in  a  very  low  state  of  the  world,  and  pay 
unwilling  tribute  to  governments  founded  on  force. 
There  is  not,  among  the  most  religious  and  instructed 
men  of  the  most  religious  and  civil  nations,  a  reli 
ance  on  the  moral  sentiment,  and  a  sufficient  belief 
in  the  unity  of  things  to  persuade  them  that  soci 
ety  can  be  maintained  without  artificial  restraints,  as 
well  as  the  solar  system  ;  or  that  the  private  citizen 
might  be  reasonable,  and  a  good  neighbor,  without 
the  hint  of  a  jail  or  a  confiscation.  What  is  strange 
too,  there  never  was  in  any  man  sufficient  faith  in 
the  power  of  rectitude,  to  inspire  him  with  the  broad 
design  of  renovating  the  State  on  the  principle  of 
right  and  love.  All  those  who  have  pretended  this- 
design,  have  been  partial  reformers,  and  have  ad 
mitted  in  some  manner  the  supremacy  of  the  bad 
State.  I  do  not  call  to  mind  a  single  human  being 
who  has  steadily  denied  the  authority  of  the  laws, 
on  the  simple  ground  of  his  own  moral  nature.  Such 
designs,  full  of  genius  and  full  of  fate  as  they  are, 
are  not  entertained  except  avowedly  as  air-pictnres. 
If  the  individual  who  exhibits  them,  dare  to  think 
them  practicable,  he  disgusts  scholars  and  church 
men  ;  and  men  of  talent,  and  women  of  superior 
sentiments,  cannot  hide  their  contempt.  Not  the 
leas  does  nature  continue  to  fill  the  heart  of  youth 
with  suggestions  of  this  enthusiasm,  and  there  are 


POLITICS.  183 

now  men, — if  indeed  I  can  speak  in  the  plural  num 
ber, — more  exactly,  I  will  say,  I  have  just  been  con 
versing  with  one  man,  to  whom  no  weight  of  ad 
verse  experience  will  make  it  for  a  moment  appear 
impossible,  that  thousands  of  human  beings  might 
exercise  towards  each  other  the  grandest  and  sim 
plest  sentiments,  as  well  as  a  knot  of  friends,  or  a 
pair  of  lovers. 


NOMINALIST  AND  EEALISP. 


In  countless  upward-striving  waves 

The  moon-drawn  tide-wave  strives  ; 

In  thousand  far-transplanted  grafts 

The  parent  fruit  survives  ; 

So,  in  the  new-born  millions, 

The  perfect  Adam  lives. 

Not  less  are  summer-mornings  dear 

To  every  child  they  wake, 

And  each  with  novel  life  his  sphere 

Fills  for  his  proper  sake. 


I  CANNOT  often  enough  say,  that  a  man  is  only  a 
relative  and  representative  nature.  Each  is  a  hint 
of  the  truth,  but  far  enough  from  being  that  truth, 
which  yet  he  quite  newly  and  inevitably  suggests  to 
us.  If  I  seek  it  in  him,  I  shall  not  find  it.  Could 
any  man  conduct  into  me  the  pure  stream  of  that 
which  he  pretends  to  be  !  Long  afterwards,  I  find 
that  quality  elsewhere  which  he  promised  rne. 
The  genius  of  the  Platonists,  is  intoxicating  to  the 
student,  yet  how  few  particulars  of  it  can  I  detach 
from  all  their  books.  The  man  momentarily  stands 
for  the  thought,  but  will  not  bear  examination ;  and 


186  NOMINALIST  AND  REALIST. 

a  society  of  men  will  cursorily  represent  well  enough 
a  certain  quality  and  culture,  for  example,  chivalry 
or  beauty  of  manners,  but  separate  them,  and  there 
is  no  gentleman  and  no  lady  in  the  group.  The  least 
hint  sets  us  on  the  pursuit  of  a  character,  which  no 
man  realizes.  "We  have  such  exorbitant  eyes,  that 
on  seeing  the  smallest  arc,  we  complete  the  curve, 
and  when  the  curtain  is  lifted  from  the  diagram 
which  it  seemed  to  veil,  we  are  vexed  to  find  that 
no  more  was  drawn,  than  just  that  fragment  of  an 
arc  which  we  first  beheld.  We  are  greatly  too  lib 
eral  in  our  construction  of  each  other's  faculty  and 
promise.  Exactly  what  the  parties  have  already 
done,  they  shall  do  again ;  but  that  which  we  in 
ferred  from  their  nature  and  inception,  they  will 
not  do.  That  is  in  nature,  but  not  in  them.  That 
happens  in  the  world,  which  we  often  witness  in  a 
public  debate.  Each  of  the  speakers  expresses  him 
self  imperfectly :  no  one  of  them  hears  much  that 
another  says,  such  is  the  preoccupation  of  mind  of 
each ;  and  the  audience,  who  have  only  to  hear  and 
not  to  speak,  judge  very  wisely  and  superiorly  how 
wrongheaded  and  unskilful  is  each  of  the  debaters 
to  his  own  affair.  Great  men  or  men  of  great  gifts 
you  shall  easily  find,  but  symmetrical  men  never. 
When  I  meet  a  pure  intellectual  force,  or  a  gener 
osity  of  affection,  I  believe,  here  then  is  man  ;  and 
am  presently  mortified  by  the  discovery,  that  thia 
individual  is  no  more  available  to  his  own  or  to 
the  general  ends,  than  his  companions ;  because  the 


NOMINALIST  AND  REALIST. 

power  which  drew  my  respect,  is  not  supported  by 
the  total  symphony  of  his  talents.  All  persons  ex 
ist  to  society  by  some  shining  trait  of  beauty  or 
utility,  which  they  have.  We  borrow  the  propor 
tions  of  the  man  from  that  one  fine  feature,  and  fin 
ish  the  portrait  symmetrically  ;  which  is  false  ;  for 
the  rest  of  his  body  is  small  or  deformed.  I  observe 
a  person  who  makes  a  good  public  appearance,  and 
conclude  thence  the  perfection  of  his  private  char 
acter,  on  which  this  is  based  ;  but  he  has  no  private 
character.  He  is  a  graceful  cloak  or  lay-figure  for 
holidays.  All  our  poets,  heroes,  and  saints,  fail  ut 
terly  in  some  one  or  in  many  parts  to  satisfy  our 
idea,  fail  to  draw  our  spontaneous  interest,  and  so 
leave  us  without  any  hope  of  realization  but  in  our 
own  future.  Our  exaggeration  of  all  fine  characters 
arises  from  the  fact,  that  we  identify  each  in  turn 
with  the  soul.  But  there  are  no  such  men  as  we 
fable ;  no  Jesus,  nor  Pericles,  nor  Caesar,  nor 
Angelo,  nor  Washington,  such  as  we  have  made. 
We  consecrate  a  great  deal  of  nonsense,  because  it 
was  allowed  by  great  men.  There  is  none  without 
his  foible.  I  verily  believe  if  an  angel  should  come 
to  chant  the  chorus  of  the  moral  law,  he  would  eat 
too  much  gingerbread,  or  take  liberties  with  private 
letters,  or  do  some  precious  atrocity.  It  is  bad 
enough,  that  our  geniuses  cannot  do  anything  useful, 
but  it  is  worse  that  no  man  is  fit  for  society,  who 
has  fine  traits.  He  is  admired  at  a  distance,  but  he 
cannot  come  near  without  appearing  a  cripple.  The 


188  NOMINALIST  AND  REALIST. 

men  of  fine  parts  protect  themselves  by  solitude,  oi 
by  courtesy,  or  by  satire,  or  by  an  acid  worldly  man 
ner,  each  concealing,  as  he  best  can,  his  incapacity 
for  useful  association,  but  they  want  either  love  or 
self-reliance. 

Our  native  love  of  reality  joins  with  this  experi 
ence  to  teach  us  a  little  reserve,  and  to  dissuade  a 
too  sudden  surrender  to  the  brilliant  qualities  of 
persons.  Young  people  admire  talents  or  particu 
lar  excellences ;  as  we  grow  older,  we  value  total 
powers  and  effects,  as,  the  impression,  the  quality, 
the  spirit  of  men  and  things.  The  genius  is  all. 
The  man, — it  is  his  system  :  we  do  not  try  a  soli 
tary  word  or  act,  but  his  habit.  The  acts  which 
you  praise,  I  praise  not,  since  they  are  departures 
from  his  faith,  and  are  mere  compliances.  The 
magnetism  which  arranges  tribes  and  races  in  one 
polarity,  is  alone  to  be  respected  ;  the  men  are 
steel-filings.  Yet  we  unjustly  select  a  particle,  and 
say,  (  O  steel-filing  number  one !  what  heart- 
drawings  I  feel  to  thee !  what  prodigious  virtues 
are  these  of  thine !  how  constitutional  to  thee,  and 
incommunicable. ' 

Whilst  we  speak,  the  loadstone  is  withdrawn; 
down  falls  our  filing  in  a  heap  with  the  rest,  and 
we  continue  our  mummery  to  the  wretched  shaving. 
Let  us  go  for  universals ;  for  the  magnetism,  not 
for  the  needles.  Human  life  and  its  persons  are 
poor  empirical  pretensions.  A  personal  influence 
is  an  ignis  fatuus.  If  they  say,  it  is  great,  it  is 


NOMINALIST  AND  REALIST.  189 

great ;  if  they  say,  it  is  small,  it  is  small ;  you  see 
it,  and  you  see  it  not,  by  turns ;  it  borrows  all  its 
size  from  the  momentary  estimation  of  the  speak 
ers  :  the  Will-of-the-wisp  vanishes,  if  you  go  too 
near,  vanishes  if  you  go  too  far,  and  only  blazes  at 
one  angle.  Who  can  tell  if  "Washington  be  a  great 
man,  or  no  ?  Who  can  tell  if  Franklin  be  ?  Yes,  or 
any  but  the  twelve,  or  six,  or  three  great  gods  of 
fame  ?  And  they  too,  loom  and  fade  before  the 
eternal. 

We  are  amphibious  creatures,  weaponed  for  two 
elements,  having  two  sets  of  faculties,  the  particu 
lar  and  the  catholic.  We  adjust  our  instrument  for 
general  observation,  and  sweep  the  heavens  as  easily 
as  we  pick  out  a  single  figure  in  the  terrestrial 
landscape.  We  are  practically  skilful  in  detecting 
elements,  for  which  we  have  no  place  in  our  theory, 
and  no  name.  Thus  we  are  very  sensible  of  an 
atmospheric  influence  in  men  and  in  bodies  of  men, 
not  accounted  for  in  an  arithmetical  addition  of  all 
their  measurable  properties.  There  is  a  genius  of 
a  nation,  which  is  not  to  be  found  in  the  numerical 
citizens,  but  which  characterizes  the  society.  Eng 
land,  strong,  punctual,  practical,  well-spoken  Eng 
land.  I  should  not  find,  if  I  should  go  to  the  island 
to  seek  it.  In  the  parliament,  in  the  playhouse,  at 
dinner-tables,  I  might  see  a  great  number  of  rich, 
ignorant,  book-read,  conventional,  proud  men, — 
many  old  women, — and  not  anywhere  the  English 
man  who  made  the  good  speeches,  combined  the 


190  NOMINALIST  AND  REALIST. 

accurate  engines,  and  did  the  bold  and  nervous 
deeds.  It  is  even  worse  in  America,  where,  from 
the  intellectual  quickness  of  the  race,  the  genius  of 
the  country  is  more  splendid  in  its  promise,  and 
more  slight  in  its  performance.  Webster  cannot 
do  the  work  of  Webster.  We  conceive  distinctly 
enough  the  French,  the  Spanish,  the  German  genius, 
and  it  is  not  the  less  real,  that  perhaps  we  should 
not  meet  in  either  of  those  nations,  a  single  indi 
vidual  who  corresponded  with  the  type.  We  infer 
the  spirit  of  the  nation  in  great  measure  from  the 
language,  which  is  a  sort  of  monument,  to  which 
each  forcible  individual  in  a  course  of  many  hun 
dred  years  has  contributed  a  stone.  And,  univer 
sally,  a  good  example  of  this  social  force,  is  the 
veracity  of  language,  which  cannot  be  debauched. 
In  any  controversy  concerning  morals,  an  appeal 
may  be  made  with  safety  to  the  sentiments,  which 
the  language  of  the  people  expresses.  Proverbs, 
words  and  grammar  inflections  convey  the  public 
sense  with  more  purity  and  precision,  than  the 
wisest  individual. 

In  the  famous  dispute  with  the  Nominalists,  the 
Realists  had  a  good  deal  of  reason.  General  ideas 
are  essences.  They  are  our  gods  :  they  round  and 
ennoble  the  most  partial  and  sordid  way  of  living. 
Our  proclivity  to  details  cannot  quite  degrade  our 
life,  and  divest  it  of  poetry.  The  day-laborer  is 
reckoned  as  standing  at  the  foot  of  the  social  scale, 
yet  he  is  saturated  with  the  laws  of  the  world.  His 


NOMINALIST  AND  REALIST.  191 

measures  are  the  hours ;  morning  and  night,  solstice 
and  equinox,  geometry,  astronomy,  and  all  the  lovely 
accidents  of  nature  play  through  his  mind.  Money, 
which  represents  the  prose  of  life,  and  which  is 
hardly  spoken  of  in  parlors  without  an  apology,  is, 
in  its  effects  and  laws,  as  beautiful  as  roses.  Prop 
erty  keeps  the  accounts  of  the  world,  and  is  always 
moral.  The  property  will  be  found  where  the  labor, 
the  wisdom,  and  the  virtue  have  been  in  nations, 
in  classes,  and  (the  whole  life- time  considered,  with 
the  compensations)  in  the  individual  also.  How 
wise  the  world  appears,  when  the  laws  and  usages 
of  nations  are  largely  detailed,  and  the  completeness 
of  the  municipal  system  is  considered !  Nothing  is 
left  out.  If  you  go  into  the  markets,  and  the  cus 
tom-houses,  the  insurers  and  notaries'  offices,  the  of 
fices  of  sealers  of  weights  and  measures,  of  inspec 
tion  of  provisions, — it  will  appear  as  if  one  man  had 
made  it  all.  Wherever  you  go,  a  wit  like  your  own 
has  been  before  you,  and  has  realized  its  thought. 
The  Eleusinian  mysteries,  the  Egyptian  architecture, 
the  Indian  astronomy,  the  Greek  sculpture,  show 
that  there  always  were  seeing  and  knowing  men  in 
the  planet.  The  world  is  full  of  masonic  ties,  of 
guilds,  of  secret  and  public  legions  of  honor ;  that 
of  scholars,  for  example ;  and  that  of  gentlemen 
fraternizing  with  the  upper  class  of  every  country 
and  every  culture. 

I  am  very  much  struck  in  literature  by  the  ap 
pearance,  that  one  person  wrote  all  the  books ;  as 


192  NOMINALIST  AND  REALIST, 

if  the  editor  of  a  journal  planted  his  body  of  re 
porters  in  different  parts  of  the  field  of  action,  and 
relieved  some  by  others  from  time  to  time  ;  but 
there  is  such  equality  and  identity  both  of  judg 
ment  and  point  of  view  in  the  narrative,  that  it  is 
plainly  the  work  of  one  all-seeing,  all-hearing  gen 
tleman.  I  looked  into  Pope's  Odyssey  yesterday : 
it  is  as  correct  and  elegant  after  our  canon  of  to-day, 
as  if  it  were  newly  written.  The  rnodernness  of  all 
good  books  seems  to  give  me  an  existence  as  wide 
as  man.  What  is  well  done,  I  feel  as  if  I  did  ;  what 
is  ill-done,  I  reck  not  of.  Shakspeare's  passages  of 
passion  (for  example,  in  Lear  and  Hamlet)  are  in 
the  very  dialect  of  the  present  year.  I  am  faitlif nl 
again  to  the  whole  over  the  members  in  rny  use  of 
books.  I  find  the  most  pleasure  in  reading  a  book 
in  a  manner  least  flattering  to  the  author.  I  read 
Proclus,  and  sometimes  Plato,  as  I  might  read  a 
dictionary,  for  a  mechanical  help  to  the  fancy  and 
the  imagination.  I  read  for  the  lustres,  as  if  one 
should  use  a  fine  picture  in  achromatic  experiment, 
for  its  rich  colors.  'Tis  not  Proclus,  but  a  piece  of 
nature  and  fate  that  I  explore.  It  is  a  greater  joy 
to  see  the  author's  author,  than  himself.  A  higher 
pleasure  of  the  same  kind  I  found  lately  at  a  concert, 
where  I  went  to  hear  Handel's  Messiah.  As  the 
master  overpowered  the  littleness  and  incapableness 
of  the  performers,  and  made  them  conductors  of  his 
electricity,  so  it  was  easy  to  observe  what  efforts 
nature  was  making  through  so  many  hoarse,  wooden, 


NOMINALIST  AND  REALIST.  193 

and  imperfect  persons,  to  produce  beautiful  voices, 
fluid  and  soul-guided  men  and  women.  The  genius 
of  nature  was  paramount  at  the  oratorio. 

This  preference  of  the  genius  to  the  parts  is  the 
secret  of  that  deification  of  art,  which  is  found  in 
all  superior  minds.  Art,  in  the  artist,  is  proportion, 
or,  a  habitual  respect  to  the  whole  by  an  eye  loving 
beauty  in  details.  And  the  wonder  and  charm  of 
it  is  the  sanity  in  insanity  which  it  denotes.  Pro 
portion  is  almost  impossible  to  human  beings. 
There  is  no  one  who  does  not  exaggerate.  In  con 
versation,  men  are  encumbered  with  personality,  and 
talk  too  much.  In  modern  sculpture,  picture,  and 
poetry,  the  beauty  is  miscellaneous  ;  the  artist  works 
here  and  there,  and  at  all  points,  adding  and  add 
ing,  instead  of  unfolding  the  unit  of  his  thought. 
Beautiful  details  we  must  have,  or  no  artist :  but 
they  must  be  means  and  never  other.  The  eye 
must  not  lose  sight  for  a  moment  of  the  purpose. 
Lively  boys  write  to  their  ear  and  eye,  and  the  cool 
reader  finds  nothing  but  sweet  jingles  in  it.  When 
they  grow  older,  they  respect  the  argument. 

We  obey  the  same  intellectual  integrity,  when  we 
study  in  exceptions  the  law  of  the  world.  Anoma 
lous  facts,  as  the  never  quite  obsolete  rumors  of 
magic  and  demonology,  and  the  new  allegations  of 
phrenologists  and  neurologists,  are  of  ideal  use. 
They  are  good  indications.  Homoeopathy  is  insig 
nificant  as  an  art  of  healing,  but  of  great  value  as 
criticism  on  the  hygeia  or  medical  practice  of  the 
13 


194:  NOMINALIST  AND  REALIST. 

time.  So  with  Mesmerism,  Sweden borgism,  Fou- 
rierism,  and  the  Millennial  Church  ;  they  are  poor 
pretensions  enough,  but  good  criticism  on  the  science, 
philosophy,  and  preaching  of  the  day.  For  these 
abnormal  insights  of  the  adepts,  ought  to  be  nor 
mal,  and  things  of  course. 

All  things  show  us,  that  on  every  side  we  are 
very  near  to  the  best.  It  seems  not  worth  while  to 
execute  with  too  much  pains  some  one  intellectual, 
or  sesthetical,  or  civil  feat,  when  presently  the 
dream  will  scatter,  and  we  shall  burst  into  universal 
power.  The  reason  of  idleness  and  of  crime  is  the 
deferring  of  our  hopes.  Whilst  we  are  waiting,  we 
beguile  the  time  with  jokes,  with  sleep,  with  eating, 
and  with  crimes. 

Thus  we  settle  it  in  our  cool  libraries,  that  all  the 
agents  with  which  we  deal  are  subalterns,  which  we 
can  well  afford  to  let  pass,  and  life  will  be  simpler 
when  we  live  at  the  centre,  and  flout  the  surfaces. 
I  wish  to  speak  with  all  respect  of  persons,  but 
sometimes  I  must  pinch  myself  to  keep  awake,  and 
preserve  the  due  decorum.  They  melt  so  fast  into 
each  other,  that  they  are  like  grass  and  trees,  and  it 
needs  an  effort  to  treat  them  as  individuals.  Though 
the  uninspired  man  certainly  finds  persons  a  con- 
veniency  in  household  matters,  the  divine  man  does 
not  respect  them  :  he  sees  them  as  a  rack  of  clouds, 
or  a  fleet  of  ripples  which  the  wind  drives  over  the 
surface  of  the  water.  But  this  is  flat  rebellion, 


NOMINALIST  AND  REALIST.  195 

Nature  will  not  be  Buddhist :  slie  resents  general 
izing,  and  insults  the  philosopher  in  every  moment 
with  a  million  of  fresh  particulars.  It  is  all  idle 
talking :  as  much  as  a  man  is  a  whole,  so  is  he  also 
a  part ;  and  it  were  partial  not  to  see  it.  What  you 
say  in  your  pompous  distribution  only  distributes 
you  into  your  class  and  section.  You  have  not  got 
rid  of  parts  by  denying  them,  but  are  the  more  par 
tial.  You  are  one  thing,  but  nature  is  one  thing  and 
the  other  thing,  in  the  same  moment.  She  will  not 
remain  orbed  in  a  thought,  but  rushes  into  persons  : 
and  when  each  person,  inflamed  to  a  fury  of  per 
sonality,  would  conquer  all  things  to  his  poor  crot 
chet,  she  raises  up  against  him  another  person,  and 
by  many  persons  incarnates  again  a  sort  of  whole. 
She  will  have  all.  Mck  Bottom  cannot  play  all  the 
parts,  work  it  how  he  may  :  there  will  be  somebody 
else,  and  the  world  will  be  round.  Everything 
must  have  its  flower  or  effort  at  the  beautiful, 
coarser  or  finer  according  to  its  stuff.  They  relieve 
and  recommend  each  other,  and  the  sanity  of  soci 
ety  is  a  balance  of  a  thousand  insanities.  She  pun 
ishes  abstractionists,  and  will  only  forgive  an  induc 
tion  which  is  rare  and  casual.  We  like  to  come  to 
a  height  of  land  and  see  the  landscape,  just  as  we 
value  a  general  remark  in  conversation.  But  it  is 
not  the  intention  of  nature  that  we  should  live  by 
general  views.  We  fetch  fire  and  water,  run  about 
all  day  among  the  shops  and  markets,  and  get  our 
clothes  and  shoes  made  and  mended,  and  are  the 


196  NOMINALIST  AND  REALIST. 

victims  of  these  details,  and  once  in  a  fortnight  we 
arrive  perhaps  at  a  rational  moment.  If  we  were 
not  thus  infatuated,  if  we  saw  the  real  from  hour 
to  hour,  we  should  not  be  here  to  write  and  to  read, 
but  should  have  been  burned  or  frozen  long  ago. 
She  would  never  get  anything  done,  if  she  suffered 
admirable  Crichtons,  and  universal  geniuses.  She 
loves  better  a  wheelwright  who  dreams  all  night  of 
wheels,  and  a  groom  who  is  part  of  his  horse  :  for 
she  is  full  of  work,  and  these  are  her  hands.  As 
the  frugal  farmer  takes  care  that  his  cattle  shall  eat 
down  the  rowan,  and  swine  shall  eat  the  waste  of 
his  house,  and  poultry  shall  pick  the  crumbs,  so  our 
economical  mother  despatches  a  new  genius  and 
habit  of  mind  into  every  district  and  condition  of 
existence,  plants  an  eye  wherever  a  new  ray  of  light 
can  fall,  and  gathering  up  into  some  man  every 
property  in  the  universe,  establishes  thousandfold 
occult  mutual  attractions  among  her  offspring,  that 
all  this  wash  and  waste  of  power  may  be  imparted 
and  exchanged. 

Great  dangers  undoubtedly  accrue  from  this  in 
carnation  and  distribution  of  the  godhead,  and 
hence  nature  has  her  maligners,  as  if  she  were 
Circe;  and  Alphonso  of  Castille  fancied  he  could 
have  given  useful  advice.  But  she  does  not  go  un 
provided  ;  she  has  hellebore  at  the  bottom  of  the 
cup.  Solitude  would  ripen  a  plentiful  crop  of  des 
pots.  The  recluse  thinks  of  men  as  having  his 
manner,  or  as  not  having  his  manner ;  and  as  hav- 


NOMINALIST  AND  REALIST.  197 

ing  degrees  of  it,  more  and  less.  But  when  he 
comes  into  a  public  assembly,  he  sees  that  men 
have  very  different  manners  from  his  own,  and  in 
their  way  admirable.  In  his  childhood  and  youth, 
he  has  had  many  checks  and  censures,  and  thinks 
modestly  enough  of  his  own  endowment.  When 
afterwards  he  comes  to  unfold  it  in  propitious  cir 
cumstance,  it  seems  the  only  talent :  he  is  delighted 
with  his  success,  and  accounts  himself  already  the 
fellow  of  the  great.  But  he  goes  into  a  mob,  into 
a  banking-house,  into  a  mechanic's  shop,  into  a  mill, 
into  a  laboratory,  into  a  ship,  into  a  camp,  and  in 
each  new  place  he  is  no  better  than  an  idiot :  other 
talents  take  place,  and  rule  the  hour.  The  rotation 
which  whirls  every  leaf  and  pebble  to  the  meridian, 
reaches  to  every  gift  of  man,  and  we  all  take  turns 
at  the  top. 

For  nature,  who  abhors  mannerism,  has  set  her 
heart  on  breaking  up  all  styles  and  tricks,  and  it  is 
so  much  easier  to  do  what  one  has  done  before,  than 
to  do  a  new  thing,  that  there  is  a  perpetual  ten 
dency  to  a  set  mode.  In  every  conversation,  even 
the  highest,  there  is  a  certain  trick,  which  may  be 
soon  learned  by  an  acute  person,  and  then  that  par 
ticular  style  continued  indefinitely.  Each  man, 
too,  is  a  tyrant  in  tendency,  because  he  would  im 
pose  his  idea  on  others  ;  and  their  trick  is  their 
natural  defence.  Jesus  would  absorb  the  race;  but 
Tom  Paine  or  the  coarsest  blasphemer  helps  human 
ity  by  resisting  this  exuberance  of  power.  Hence 


198  NOMINALIST  AND  REALIST. 

the  immense  benefit  of  party  in  politics,  as  it  re. 
veals  faults  of  character  in  a  chief,  which  the  in 
tellectual  force  of  the  persons,  with  ordinary  op 
portunity  and  not  hurled  into  aphelion  by  hatred, 
could  not  have  seen.  Since  we  are  all  so  stupid, 
what  benefit  that  there  should  be  two  stupidities ! 
It  is  like  that  brute  advantage  so  essential  to  as 
tronomy,  of  having  the  diameter  of  the  earth's  or 
bit  for  a  base  of  its  triangles.  Democracy  is  mo 
rose,  and  runs  to  anarchy,  but  in  the  state,  and  in 
the  schools,  it  is  indispensable  to  resist  the  consoli 
dation  of  all  men  into  a  few  men.  If  John  was 
perfect,  why  are  you  and  I  alive  ?  As  long  as  any 
man  exists,  there  is  some  need  of  him  ;  let  him 
fight  for  his  own.  A  new  poet  has  appeared  ;  a 
new  character  approached  us ;  why  should  we  re 
fuse  to  eat  bread,  until  we  have  found  his  regiment 
and  section  in  our  old  army-files  ?  Why  not  a  new 
man  ?  Here  is  a  new  enterprise  of  Brook  Farm,  of 
Skeneateles,  of  Northampton  :  why  so  impatient  to 
baptize  them  Essenes,  or  Port-Royalists,  or  Shakers, 
or  by  any  known  and  effete  name  ?  Let  it  be  a 
new  way  of  living.  Why  have  only  two  or  three 
ways  of  life,  and  not  thousands?  Every  man  is 
wanted,  and  no  man  is  wanted  much.  We  came 
this  time  for  condiments,  not  for  corn.  We  want 
the  great  genius  only  for  joy  ;  for  one  star  more  in 
our  constellation,  for  one  tree  more  in  our  grove. 
But  he  thinks  we  wish  to  belong  to  him,  as  he 
wishes  to  occupy  us.  He  greatly  mistakes  us.  I 


NOMINALIST  AND  REALIST.  199 

think  I  have  done  well,  if  I  have  acquired  a  new 
word  from  a  good  author ;  and  my  business  with 
him  is  to  find  my  own,  though  it  were  only  to  melt 
him  down  into  an  epithet  or-  an  image  for  daily  use. 

"  Into  paint  will  I  grind  thee,  my  bride  !  " 

To  embroil  the  confusion,  and  make  it  impossible 
to  arrive  at  any  general  statement,  when  we  have  in 
sisted  on  the  imperfection  of  individuals,  our  affec 
tions  and  our  experience  urge  that  every  individual 
is  entitled  to  honor,  and  a  very  generous  treatment 
is  sure  to  be  repaid.  A  recluse  sees  only  two  or 
three  persons,  and  allows  them  all  their  room ;  they 
spread  themselves  at  large.  The  man  of  state  looks 
at  many,  and  compares  the  few  habitually  with 
others,  and  these  look  less.  Yet  are  they  not  en 
titled  to  this  generosity  of  reception  ?  and  is  not 
munificence  the  means  of  insight?  For  though 
gamesters  say,  that  the  cards  beat  all  the  players, 
though  they  were  never  so  skilful,  yet  in  the  con 
test  we  are  now  considering,  the  players  are  also  the 
game,  and  share  the  power  of  the  cards.  If  you 
criticise  a  fine  genius,  the  odds  are  that  you  are  out 
of  your  reckoning,  and,  instead  of  the  poet,  are  cen 
suring  your  own  caricature  of  him.  For  there  is 
somewhat  spheral  and  infinite  in  every  man,  espe 
cially  in  every  genius,  which,  if  you  can  come  very 
near  him,  sports  with  all  your  limitations.  For, 
rightly,  every  man  is  a  channel  through  which  heav 
en  floweth,  and,  whilst  I  fancied  I  was  criticising 


200  NOMINALIST  AND  REALIST. 

him,  I  was  censuring  or  rather  terminating  my  own 
soul.  After  taxing  Goethe  as  a  courtier,  artificial,  un 
believing,  worldly, — T  took  up  this  book  of  Helena, 
and  found  him  an  Indian  of  the  wilderness,  a  piece 
of  pure  nature  like  an  apple  or  an  oak,  large  as 
morning  or  night,  and  virtuous  as  a  briar-rose. 

But  care  is  taken  that  the  whole  tune  shall  be 
played.  If  we  were  not  kept  among  surfaces,  every 
thing  would  be  large  and  universal :  now  the  ex 
cluded  attributes  burst  in  on  us  with  the  more  bright 
ness,  that  they  have  been  excluded.  "  Your  turn 
now,  my  turn  next,"  is  the  rule  of  the  game.  The 
universality  being  hindered  in  its  primary  form, 
comes  in  the  secondary  form  of  all  sides  :  the  points 
come  in  succession  to  the  meridian,  and  by  the  speed 
of  rotation,  a  new  whole  is  formed.  Nature  keeps 
herself  whole  and  her  representation  complete  in 
the  experience  of  each  mind.  She  suffers  no  seat 
to  be  vacant  in  her  college.  It  is  the  secret  of  the 
world  that  all  things  subsist,  and  do  not  die,  but 
only  retire  a  little  from  sight,  and  afterwards  re 
turn  again.  Whatever  does  not  concern  us,  is  con 
cealed  from  us.  As  soon  as  a  person  is  no  longer 
related  to  our  present  well-being,  he  is  concealed,  or 
dies,  as  we  say.  Really,  all  things  and  persons  are 
related  to  us,  but  according  to  our  nature,  the)7  act 
on  us  not  at  once,  but  in  succession,  and  we  are 
made  aware  of  their  presence  one  at  a  time.  AK 
persons,  all  things  which  we  have  known,  are  here 
present,  and  many  more  than  we  see ;  the  world  is 


NOMINALIST  AND  REALIST.  201 

full.  As  the  ancient  said,  the  world  is  a  plenum  or 
solid ;  and  if  we  saw  all  things  that  really  surround 
us,  we  should  be  imprisoned  and  unable  to  move. 
For,  though  nothing  is  impassable  to  the  soul,  but 
all  things  are  pervious  to  it,  and  like  highways,  yet 
this  is  only  whilst  the  soul  does  not  see  them.  As 
soon  as  the  soul  sees  any  object,  it  stops  before  that 
object.  Therefore,  the  divine  Providence,  which 
keeps  the  universe  open  in  every  direction  to  the 
soul,  conceals  all  the  furniture  and  all  the  persons 
that  do  not  concern  a  particular  soul  from  the  senses 
of  that  individual.  Through  solidest  eternal  things, 
the  man  finds  his  road,  as  if  they  did  not  subsist, 
and  does  not  once  suspect  their  being.  As  soon  as 
he  needs  a  new  object,  suddenly  he  beholds  it  and 
no  longer  attempts  to  pass  through  it,  but  takes  an 
other  way.  When  he  has  exhausted  for  the  time 
the  nourishment  to  be  drawn  from  any  one  person 
or  thing,  that  object  is  withdrawn  from  his  observa 
tion,  and  though  still  in  his  immediate  neighbor 
hood,  he  does  not  suspect  its  presence. 

Nothing  is  dead  :  men  feign  themselves  dead,  and 
endure  mock  funerals  and  mournful  obituaries,  and 
there  they  stand  looking  out  of  the  window,  sound 
and  well,  in  some  new  and  strange  disguise.  Jesus 
is  not  dead  :  he  is  very  well  alive :  nor  John,  nor 
Paul,  nor  Mahomet,  nor  A_ristotle  ;  at  times  we  be 
lieve  we  have  seen  them  all,  and  could  easily  tell  the 
names  under  which  they  go. 

If  we  cannot  make  voluntary  and  conscious  steps 


202  NOMINALIST  AND  REALIST. 

in  the  admirable  science  of  universals,  let  ns  see  the 
parts  wisely,  and  infer  the  genius  of  nature  from  the 
best  particulars  with  a  becoming  charity.  What  is 
best  in  each  kind  is  an  index  of  what  should  be  the 
average  of  that  thing.  Love  shows  me  the  opulence 
of  nature,  by  disclosing  to  me  in  my  friend  a  hidden 
wealth,  and  I  infer  an  equal  depth  of  good  in  every 
other  direction.  It  is  commonly  said  by  farmers, 
that  a  good  pear  or  apple  costs  no  more  time  or  pains 
to  rear,  than  a  poor  one  ;  so  I  would  have  no  work 
of  art,  no  speech,  or  action,  or  thought,  or  friend, 
but  the  best. 

The  end  and  the  means,  the  gamester  and  the 
game, — life  is  made  up  of  the  intermixture  and  re 
action  of  these  two  amicable  powers,  whose  marriage 
appears  beforehand  monstrous,  as  each  denies  arid 
tends  to  abolish  the  other.  We  must  reconcile  the 
contradictions  as  we  can,  but  their  discord  and  their 
concord  introduce  wild  absurdities  into  our  thinking 
and  speech.  Ko  sentence  will  hold  the  whole  truth, 
and  the  only  way  in  which  we  can  be  just,  is  by  giv 
ing  ourselves  the  lie  ;  Speech  is  better  than  silence  ; 
silence  is  better  than  speech  ; — All  things  are  in  con 
tact  ;  every  atom  has  a  sphere  of  repulsion ; — Things 
are,  and  are  not,  at  the  same  time  ; — and  the  like. 
All  the  universe  over,  there  is  but  one  thing,  this 
old-Two-Face,  creator-creature,  mind-matter,  right- 
wrong,  of  which  any  proposition  may  be  affirmed  or 
denied.  Very  fitly,  therefore,  I  assert,  that  every 
man  is  a  partialist,  that  nature  secures  him  as  an  in- 


NOMINALIST  AND  REALIST.  203 

strnment  by  self-conceit,  preventing  the  tendencies 
to  religion  and  science  ;  and  now  further  assert,  that, 
each  man's  genius  being  near1/  and  affectionately 
explored,  he  is  justified  in  his  individuality,  as  his 
nature  is  found  to  be  immense  ;  and  now  I  add,  that 
every  man  is  a  universalist  also,  and  as  our  earth, 
whilst  it  spins  on  its  own  axis,  spins  all  the  time 
round  the  sun  through  the  celestial  spaces,  so  the 
least  of  its  rational  children,  the  most  dedicated  to 
his  private  affair,  works  out,  though  as  it  were  un 
der  a  disguise,  the  universal  problem.  We  fancy 
men  are  individuals ;  so  are  pumpkins ;  but  every 
pumpkin  in  the  field,  goes  through  every  point  of 
pumpkin  history.  The  rabid  democrat,  as  soon  as 
he  is  senator  and  rich  man,  has  ripened  beyond  pos 
sibility  of  sincere  radicalism  and  unless  he  can  resist 
the  sun,  he  must  be  conservative  the  remainder  of 
his  days.  Lord  Eldon  said  in  his  old  age,  "  that,  if 
he  were  to  begin  life  again,  he  would  be  damned 
but  he  would  begin  as  agitator." 

We  hide  this  universality,  if  we  can,  but  it  ap 
pears  at  all  points.  We  are  as  ungrateful  as  chil 
dren.  There  is  nothing  we  cherish  and  strive  to 
draw  to  us,  but  in  some  hour  we  turn  and  rend  it. 
We  keep  a  running  fire  of  sarcasm  at  ignorance  and 
the  life  of  the  senses;  then  goes  by,  perchance,  a 
fair  girl,  a  piece  of  life,  gay  and  happy,  and  making 
the  commonest  offices  beautiful,  by  the  energy  and 
heart  with  which  she  does  them,  and  seeing  this, 
we  admire  and  lovelier  and  them,  and  say,  "  Lo!  a 


204:  NOMINALIST  AND  REALIST. 

genuine  creature  of  the  fair  earth,  not  dissipated, 
or  too  early  ripened  by  books,  philosophy,  religion, 
society,  or  care !  "  insinuating  a  treachery  and  con 
tempt  for  all  we  had  so  long  loved  and  wrought  in 
ourselves  and  others. 

If  we  could  have  any  security  against  moods! 
If  the  profoundest  prophet  could  be  holden  to  his 
words,  and  the  hearer  who  is  ready  to  sell  all  and 
join  the  crusade,  could  have  any  certificate  that  to 
morrow  his  prophet  shall  not  unsay  his  testimony  ! 
But  the  Truth  sits  veiled  there  on  the  Bench,  and 
never  interposes  an  adamantine  syllable ;  and  the 
most  sincere  and  revolutionary  doctrine,  put  as  if 
the  ark  of  God  were  carried  forward  some  furlongs, 
and  planted  there  for  the  succor  of  the  world,  shall 
in  a  few  weeks  be  coldly  set  aside  by  the  same 
speaker,  as  morbid  ;  "  I  thought  I  was  right,  but  I 
was  not," — and  the  same  immeasurable  credulity 
demanded  for  new  audacities.  If  we  were  not  of 
all  opinions  !  if  we  did  not  in  any  moment  shift  the 
platform  on  which  we  stand,  and  look  and  speak 
from  another  !  if  there  could  be  any  regulation,  any 
f  one-hour-rule,'  that  a  man  should  never  leave  his 
point  of  view,  without  sound  of  trumpet.  I  am  al 
ways  insincere,  as  always  knowing  there  are  other 
moods. 

How  sincere  and  confidential  we  can  be,  saying 
all  that  lies  in  the  mind,  and  yet  go  away  feeling 
that  all  is  yet  unsaid,  from  the  incapacity  of  the 
parties  to  know  each  other,  although  they  use  the 


NOMINALIST  AND  REALIST.  205 

same  words  !  My  companion  assumes  to  know  my 
mood  and  habit  of  thought,  and  we  go  on  from  ex 
planation  to  explanation,  until  all  is  said  which 
words  can,  and  we  leave  matters  just  as  they  were 
at  first,  because  of  that  vicious  assumption.  Is  it 
that  every  man  believes  every  other  to  be  an  in 
curable  partialist,  and  himself  an  universalist  ?  I 
talked  yesterday  with  a  pair  of  philosophers  :  I  en 
deavored  to  show  my  good  men  that  I  love  every 
thing  by  turns,  and  nothing  long;  that  I  loved  the 
centre,  but  doated  on  the  superficies;  that  I  loved 
man,  if  men  seemed  to  me  mice  and  rats ;  that  I 
revered  saints,  but  woke  up  glad  that  the  old  pagan 
world  stood  its  ground,  and  died  hard  ;  that  I  was 
glad  of  men  of  every  gift  and  nobility,  but  would 
not  live  in  their  arms.  Could  they  but  once  under 
stand,  that  I  loved  to  know  that  they  existed,  and 
heartily  wished  them  Godspeed,  yet,  out  of  my 
poverty  of  life  and  thought,  had  no  word  of  wel 
come  for  them  when  they  came  to  see  me,  and 
could  well  consent  to  their  living  in  Oregon,  for  any 
claim  I  felt  on  them,  it  would  be  a  great  satisfac 
tion. 


EMANCIPATION  ADDRESS. 


DELIVEBED  IN  CONCORD,  MASS.,  AUGUST  1,  1844,  ON  THB 
ANNIVERSARY  OF  EMANCIPATION  OF  THE  NEGROES  IN  THE 
BRITISH  WEST  INDIES. 


FRIENDS  AND  FELLOW  CITIZENS: 

WE  are  met  to  exchange  congratulations  on  the 
anniversary  of  an  event  singular  in  the  history  of 
civilization  ;  a  day  of  reason  ;  of  the  clear  light ; 
of  that  which  makes  us  better  than  a  flock  of  birds 
and  beasts  :  a  day,  which  gave  the  immense  fortifi 
cation  of  a  fact, — of  gross  history, — to  ethical  ab 
stractions.  It  was  the  settlement,  as  far  as  a  great 
Empire  was  concerned,  of  a  question  on  which  al 
most  every  leading  citizen  in  it  had  taken  care  to 
record  his  vote ;  one  which  for  many  years  ab 
sorbed  the  attention  of  the  best  and  most  eminent 
of  mankind.  I  might  well  hesitate,  coming  from 
other  studies,  and  without  the  smallest  claim  to  be 
a  special  laborer  in  this  work  of  humanity,  to  un 
dertake  to  set  this  matter  before  you  ;  which  ought 


208  EMANCIPATION  ADDRESS. 

rather  to  be  done  by  a  strict  cooperation  of  many 
well-advised  persons  ;  but  I  shall  not  apologize  for 
my  weakness.  In  this  cause,  no  man's  weakness  is 
any  prejudice  ;  it  has  a  thousand  sons  ;  if  one  man 
cannot  speak,  ten  others  can  ;  and  whether  by  the 
wisdom  of  its  friends,  or  by  the  folly  of  the  adver 
saries  ;  by  speech  and  by  silence ;  by  doing  and  by 
omitting  to  do,  it  goes  forward.  Therefore  I  will 
speak, — or,  not  I,  but  the  might  of  liberty  in  my 
weakness.  The  subject  is  said  to  have  the  prop 
erty  of  making  dull  men  eloquent. 

It  has  been  in  all  men's  experience  a  marked  ef 
fect  of  the  enterprise  in  behalf  of  the  African,  to 
generate  an  over-bearing  and  defying  spirit.  The 
institution  of  slavery  seems  to  its  opponent  to  have 
but  one  side,  and  he  feels  that  none  but  a  stupid  or  a 
malignant  person  can  hesitate  on  a  view  of  the  facts. 
Under  such  an  impulse,  I  was  about  to  say,  If  any 
cannot  speak,  or  cannot  hear  the  words  of  freedom, 
let  him  go  hence, — I  had  almost  said,  Creep  into 
your  grave,  the  universe  has  no  need  of  you  !  But 
I  have  thought  better  :  let  him  not  go.  When  we 
consider  what  remains  to  be  done  for  this  interest, 
in  this  country,  the  dictates  of  humanity  make  us 
tender  of  such  as  are  not  yet  persuaded.  The  hard 
est  selfishness  is  to  be  borne  with.  Let  us  with 
hold  every  reproachful,  and,  if  we  can,  every  indig 
nant  remark.  In  this  cause,  we  must  renounce  our 
temper,  and  the  risings  of  pride.  If  there  be  any 
man  who  thinks  the  ruin  of  a  race  of  men  a  small 


EMANCIPATION  ADDRESS.  209 

matter,  compared  with  the  last  decoration  and  com 
pletions  of  his  own  comfort, — who  would  not  so 
much  as  part  with  his  ice  cream,  to  save  them  from 
rapine  and  manacles,  I  think,  I  must  not  hesitate  to 
satisfy  tlrat  man,  that  also  his  cream  and  vanilla  are 
safer  and  cheaper,  by  placing  the  negro  nation  on 
a  fair  footing,  than  by  robbing  them.  If  the  Vir 
ginian  piques  himself  on  the  picturesque  luxury  of 
his  vassalage,  on  the  heavy  Ethiopian  manners  of 
his  house-servants,  their  silent  obedience,  their  hue 
of  bronze,  their  turbaned  heads,  and  would  not  ex 
change  them  for  the  more  intelligent  but  precari 
ous  hired-service  of  whites,  I  shall  not  refuse  to 
show  him,  that  when  their  free-papers  are  made 
out,  it  will  still  be  their  interest  to  remain  on  his 
estate,  and  that  the  oldest  planters  of  Jamaica  are 
convinced,  that  it  is  cheaper  to  pay  wages,  than  to 
own  the  slave. 

The  history  of  mankind  interests  us  only  as  it  ex 
hibits  a  steady  gain  of  truth  and  right,  in  the  in 
cessant  conflict  which  it  records,  between  the  ma 
terial  and  the  moral  nature.  From  the  earliest 
monuments,  it  appears,  that  one  race  was  victim, 
and  served  the  other  races.  In  the  oldest  temples 
of  Egypt,  negro  captives  are  painted  on  the  tombs 
of  kings,  in  such  attitudes  as  to  show  that  they  are 
on  the  point  of  being  executed  ;  and  Herodotus,  our 
oldest  historian,  relates  that  the  Troglodytes  hunted 
the  Ethiopians  in  four-horse-chariots.  From  the 
earliest  time,  the  negro  has  been  an  article  of  luxury 
14 


210  EMANCIPATION  ADDRESS. 

to  the  commercial  nations.  So  has  it  been,  down 
to  the  day  that  has  just  dawned  on  the  world.  Lan 
guage  must  be  raked,  the  secrets  of  slaughter-houses 
and  infamous  holes  that  cannot  front  the  day,  must 
be  ransacked,  to  tell  what  negro-slavery  has  been. 
These  men,  our  benefactors,  as  they  are  producers 
of  corn  and  wine,  of  coffee,  of  tobacco,  of  cotton,  of 
sugar,  of  rum,  and  brandy,  gentle  and  joyous  them 
selves,  and  producers  of  comfort  and  luxury  for  the 
civilized  world, — there  seated  in  the  finest  climates 
of  the  globe,  children  of  the  sun, — I  am  heart-sick 
when  I  read  how  they  came  there,  and  how  they  are 
kept  there.  Their  case  was  left  out  of  the  mind 
and  out  of  the  heart  of  their  brothers.  The  prizes 
of  society,  the  trumpet  of  fame,  the  privileges  of 
learning,  of  culture,  of  religion,  the  decencies  and 
joys  of  marriage,  honor,  obedience,  personal  author 
ity,  and  a  perpetual  melioration  into  a  finer  civility, 
these  were  for  all,  but  not  for  them.  For  the  negro, 
was  the  slave-ship  to  begin  with,  in  whose  filthy 
hold  he  sat  in  irons,  unable  to  lie  down ;  bad  food, 
and  insufficiency  of  that ;  disf  ranchisement ;  no 
property  in  the  rags  that  covered  him  ;  no  marriage, 
no  right  in  the  poor  black  woman  that  cherished 
him  in  her  bosom, — no  right  to  the  children  of  his 
body ;  no  security  from  the  humors,  none  from  the 
crimes,  none  from  the  appetites  of  his  master  :  toil, 
famine,  insult,  and  flogging  ;  and,  when  he  sunk 
in  the  furrow,  no  wind  of  good  fame  blew  over  him, 
no  priest  of  salvation  visited  him  with  glad  tidings ; 


EMANCIPATION  ADDRESS.  211 

but  he  went  down  to  death,  Avith  dusky  dreams  of 
African  shadow-catchers  and  Obeahs  hunting  him. 
Very  sad  was  the  negro  tradition,  that  the  Great 
Spirit,  in  the  beginning,  offered  the  black  man, 
whom  he  loved  better  than  the  bnckra  or  white,  his 
choice  of  two  boxes,  a  big  and  a  little  one.  The 
black  man  was  greedy,  and  chose  the  largest.  "  The 
buckra  box  was  full  up  with  pen,  paper,  and  whip, 
and  the  negro  box  with  hoe  and  bill ;  and  hoe  and 
bill  for  negro  to  this  day." 

But  the  crude  element  of  good  in  human  affairs 
must  work  and  ripen,  spite  of  whips,  and  plantation- 
laws,  and  West  Indian  interest.  Conscience  rolled 
on  its  pillow,  and  could  not  sleep.  We  sympathize 
very  tenderly  here  with  the  poor  aggrieved  planter, 
of  whom  so  many  unpleasant  things  are  said  ;  but 
if  we  saw  the  whip  applied  to  old  men,  to  tender 
women;  and,  undeniably,  though  I  shrink  to  say 
so, — pregnant  women  set  in  the  treadmill  for  refus 
ing  to  work,  when,  not  they,  but  the  eternal  law  of 
animal  nature  refused  to  work  ; — if  we  saw  men's 
backs  flayed  with  cowhides,  and  "  hot  rum  poured 
on,  superinduced  with  brine  or  pickle,  rubbed  in 
with  a  cornhusk,  in  the  scorching  heat  of  the  sun  ; " 
— if  we  saw  the  runaway  shunted  with  blood-hounds 
into  swamps  and  hills :  and,  in  cases  of  passion,  a 
planter  throwing  his  negro  into  a  copper  of  boiling 
cane-juice, — if  we  saw  these  things  with  eyes,  we 
too  should  wince.  They  are  not  pleasant  sights. 
The  blood  is  moral :  the  blood  is  anti-slavery :  it 


212  EMANCIPATION  ADDRESS. 

runs  cold  in  the  veins :  the  stomach  rises  with  dis 
gust,  and  curses  slavery.  Well,  so  it  happened ;  a 
good  man  or  woman,  a  country-hoy  or  girl,  it  would 
so  fall  out,  once  in  a  while  saw  these  injuries,  and 
had  the  indiscretion  to  tell  of  them.  The  horrid 
story  ran  and  flew;  the  winds  blew  it  all  over  the 
world.  They  who  heard  it,  asked  their  rich  and 
great  friends,  if  it  was  true,  or  only  missionary  lies. 
The  richest  and  greatest,  the  prime  minister  of  Eng 
land,  the  king's  privy  council  were  ohliged  to  say, 
that  it  was  too  true.  It  became  plain  to  all  men,  the 
more  this  business  was  looked  into,  that  the  crimes 
and  cruelties  of  the  slave-traders  and  slave-owners 
could  not  be  overstated.  The  more  it  was  searched, 
the  more  shocking  anecdotes  came  up, — things  not 
to  be  spoken.  Humane  persons  who  were  informed 
of  the  reports,  insisted  on  proving  them.  Granville 
Sharpe  was  accidentally  made  acquainted  with  the 
sufferings  of  a  slave,  whom  a  West  Indian  planter 
had  brought  with  him  to  London,  and  had  beaten 
with  a  pistol  on  his  head  so  badly,  that  his  whole 
body  became  diseased,  and  the  man  useless  to  his 
master,  who  left  him  to  go  whither  he  pleased. 
The  man  applied  to  Mr.  William  Sharpe,  a  charita 
ble  surgeon,  who  attended  the  diseases  of  the  poor. 
In  process  of  time  he  was  healed.  Granville  Sharpe 
found  him  at  his  brother's,  and  procured  a  place 
for  him  in  an  apothecary's  shop.  The  master  acci 
dentally  met  his  recovered  slave,  and  instantly  en 
deavored  to  get  possession  of  him  again.  Sharpe 


EMANCIPATION  ADDRESS.  213 

protected  the  slave.  In  consulting  with  the  lawyers, 
they  told  Sharpe  the  laws  were  against  him.  Sharpe 
would  not  believe  in ;  no  prescription  on  earth  could 
ever  render  such  iniquities  legal.  "  But  the  de 
cisions  are  against  you,  and  Lord  Mansfield,  now 
chief  justice  of  England  leans  to  the  decisions." 
Sharpe  instantly  sat  down  and  gave  himself  to  the 
study  of  English  law  for  more  than  two  years,  until 
he  had  proved  that  the  opinions  relied  on  of  Talbot 
and  Yorke,  were  incompatible  with  the  former  Eng 
lish  decisions,  and  with  the  whole  spirit  of  Eng 
lish  law.  He  published  his  book  in  1769,  and  he 
so  filled  the  heads  and  hearts  of  his  advocates,  that 
when  he  brought  the  case  of  George  Somerset,  an 
other  slave,  before  Lord  Mansfield,  the  slavish  de 
cisions  were  set  aside  and  equity  affirmed.  There 
is  a  sparkle  of  God's  righteousness  in  Lord  Mans 
field's  judgment,  which  does  the  heart  good.  Very 
unwilling  had  that  great  lawyer  been  to  reverse  the 
late  decisions  ;  he  suggested  twice  from  the  bench, 
in  the  course  of  the  trial,  how  the  question  might 
be  £ot  rid  of  :  but  the  hint  was  not  taken  ;  the  case 

C->  j 

was  adjourned  again  and  again,  and  judgment  de 
layed.  At  last  judgment  was  demanded,  and  on 
the  22nd  June,  1772,  Lord  Mansfield  is  reported  to 
have  decided  in  these  words  : 

u  Immemorial  usage  preserves  the  memory  otposi- 
tive  law,  long  after  all  traces  of  the  occasion,  reason, 
authority,  and  time  of  its  introduction,  are  lost ;  and 
in  a  case  so  odious  as  the  condition  of  slaves,  must 


EMANCIPATION  ADDRESS. 

be  taken  strictly  ;  (tracing  the  subject  to  natural 
principles,  the  claim  of  slavery  never  can  be  sup 
ported.)  The  power  claimed  by  this  return  never 
was  in  use  here.  We  cannot  say  the  cause  set.  forth 
by  this  return  is  allowed  or  approved  of  by  the  laws 
of  this  kingdom ;  and  therefore  the  man  must  be 
discharged." 

This  decision  established  the  principle  that  the 
"  air  of  England  is  too  pure  for  any  slave  to  breathe," 
but  the  wrongs  in  the  islands  were  not  thereby 
touched.  Public  attention,  however,  was  drawn 
that  way,  and  the  methods  of  the  stealing  and  the 
transportation  from  Africa,  became  noised  abroad. 
The  Quakers  got  the  story.  In  their  plain  meeting 
houses,  and  prim  dwellings,  this  dismal  agitation 
got  entrance.  They  were  rich  ;  they  owned  for 
debt,  or  by  inheritance,  island  property  ;  they  were 
religious,  tender-hearted  men  and  women  ;  and  they 
had  to  hear  the  news  and  digest  it  as  they  could. 
Six  Quakers  met  in  London  on  the  6th  July,  1783  ; 
William  Dillwyn,  Samuel  Hoar,  George  Harrison, 
Thomas  Knowles,  John  Lloyd,  Joseph  Woods,  "  to 
consider  what  step  they  should  take  for  the  relief 
and  liberation  of  the  negro  slaves  in  the  West  Indies, 
and  for  the  discouragement  of  the  slave-trade  on  the 
coast  of  Africa."  They  made  friends  and  raised 
money  for  the  slave  ;  they  interested  their  Yearly 
Meeting ;  and  all  English  and  all  American  Quak 
ers.  John  Woolman  of  Kew  Jersey,  whilst  yet  an 
apprentice,  was  uneasy  in  his  mind  when  he  was 


EMANCIPATION  ADDRESS.  %  15 

set  to  write  a  bill  of  sale  of  a  negro  for  his  master. 
He  gave  his  testimony  against  the  traffic,  in  Mary 
land  and  Virginia.  Thomas  Clarkson  was  a  youth 
at  Cambridge,  England,  when  the  subject  given  out 
fora  Latin  prize  dissertation,  was,  "Is  it  right  to 
make  slaves  of  others  against  their  will?"  lie 
wrote  an  essay  and  won  the  prize  ;  but  he  wrote  "too 
well  for  his  own  peace  ;  he  began  to  ask  himself,  if 
these  things  could  be  true ;  and  if  they  were,  he 
could  no  longer  rest.  He  left  Cambridge  ;  he  fell 
in  with  the  six  Quakers.  They  engaged  him  to  act 
for  them.  He  himself  interested  Mr.  Wilberforce 
in  the  matter.  The  shipmasters  in  that  trade  Were 
the  greatest  miscreants,  and  guilty  of  every  barbar 
ity  to  their  own  crews.  Clarkson  went  to  Bristol, 
made  himself  acquainted  with  the  interior  of  the 
slaveships,  and  the  details  of  the  trade.  The  facts 
confirmed  his  sentiment, "  that  Providence  had  never 
made  that  to  be  wise,  which  was  immoral,  and  that 
the  slave  trade  was  as  impolitic  as  it  was  unjust ; " 
that  it  was  found  peculiarly  fatal  to  those  employed 
in  it.  More  seamen  died  in  that  trade,  in  one  year, 
than  in  the  whole  remaining  trade  of  the  country 
in  two.  Mr.  Pitt  and  Mr.  Fox  were  drawn  into  the 
generous  enterprise.  In  1788,  the  house  of  Com 
mons  voted  Parliamentary  inquiry.  In  1791,  a  bill 
to  abolish  the  trade  was  brought  in  by  Wilberforce, 
and  supported  by  him,  and  by  Fox,  and  Burke,  and 
Pitt,  with  the  utmost  ability  and  faithfulness  ;  re 
sisted  by  the  planters,  and  the  whole  West  Indian 


216  EMANCIPATION  Al)l)I2fiS3. 

interest,  and  lost.  During  the  next  sixteen  years, 
ten  times,  year  after  year,  the  attempt  was  renewed 
by  Mr.  Wilberforce,  and  ten  times  defeated  by  the 
planters.  The  king,  and  all  the  royal  family  but  one, 
were  against  it.  These  debates  are  instructive,  as 
they  show  on  what  grounds  the  trade  was  assailed 
and  defended.  Every  thing  generous,  wise,  and 
sprightly  is  sure  to  come  to  the  attack.  On  the 
other  part,  are  found  cold  prudence,  barefaced  self 
ishness,  and  silent  votes.  But  the  nation  was 
aroused  to  enthusiasm.  Every  horrid  fact  became 
known.  In  1791,  three  hundred  thousand  persons 
in  Britain  pledged  themselves  to  abstain  from  all 
articles  of  island  produce.  The  planters  were 
obliged  to  give  way ;  and  in  1807,  on  the  25th 
March,  the  bill  passed,  and  the  slave-trade  was 
abolished. 

The  assailants  of  slavery  had  early  agreed  to  limit 
their  political  action  on  this  subject  to  the  abolition 
of  the  trade,  but  Granville  Sharpe,  as  a  matter  of 
conscience,  whilst  he  acted  as  chairman  of  the  Lon 
don  Committee,  felt  constrained  to  record  his  pro 
test  against  the  limitation,  declaring  that  slavery  wras 
as  much  a  crime  against  the  Divine  law,  as  the  slave- 
trade.  The  trade,  under  false  flags,  went  on  as  be 
fore.  In  1821,  according  to  official  documents  pre 
sented  to  the  American  government  by  the  Coloni 
zation  Society,  200,000  slaves  were  deported  from 
Africa.  Nearly  30,000  were  landed  in  the  port  of 
Havana  alone,  In  consequence  of  the  dangers  of 


EMANCIPATION  ADDRESS.  217 

the  trade  growing  out  of  the  act  of  abolition,  ships 
were  built  sharp  for  swiftness,  and  with  a  frightful 
disregard  of  the  comfort  of  the  victims  they  were 
destined  to  transport.  They  carried  five,  six,  even 
seven  hundred  stowed  in  a  ship  built  so  narrow  as 
to  be  unsafe,  being  made  just  broad  enough  on  the 
beam  to  keep  the  sea.  In  attempting  to  make  its 
escape  from  the  pursuit  of  a  man-of-war,  one  ship 
flung  five  hundred  slaves  alive  into  the  sea.  These 
facts  went  into  Parliament.  In  the  islands,  was  an 
ominous  state  of  cruel  and  licentious  society  ;  every 
house  had  a  dungeon  attached  to  it ;  every  slave  was 
worked  by  the  whip.  There  is  no  end  to  the  tragic 
anecdotes  in  the  municipal  records  of  the  colonies. 
The  boy  was  set  to  strip  and  to  flog  his  own  mother 
to  blood,  for  a  small  offence.  Looking  in  the  face 
of  his  master  by  the  negro  was  held  to  be  violence 
by  the  island  courts.  He  was  worked  sixteen  hours, 
and  his  ration  by  law,  in  some  islands,  was  a  pint  of 
flour  and  one  salt  herring  a  day.  He  suffered  in 
sult,  stripes,  mutilation,  at  the  humor  of  the  master  : 
iron  collars  were  riveted  on  their  necks  with  iron 
prongs  ten  inches  long  ;  capsicum  pepper  was  rubbed 
in  the  eyes  of  the  females  ;  and  they  were  done  to 
death  with  the  most  shocking  levity  between  the 
master  and  manager,  without  fine  or  inquiry.  And 
when,  at  last,  some  Quakers,  Moravians,  and  Wesley- 
an  and  Baptist  missionaries,  following  in  the  steps 
of  Carey  and  Ward  in  the  East  Indies,  had  been 
moved  to  come  and  cheer  the  poor  victim  with  the 


218  EMANCIPATION  ADDRESS. 

hope  of  some  reparation,  in  a  future  world,  of  the 
wrongs  he  suffered  in  this,  these  missionaries  were 
persecuted  by  the  planters,  their  lives  threatened, 
their  chapels  burned,  and  the  negroes  furiously  for 
bidden  to  go  near  them.  These  outrages  rekindled 
the  flame  of  British  indignation.  Petitions  poured 
into  Parliament :  a  million  persons  signed  their 
names  to  these  ;  and  in  1833,  on  the  14th  May, 
Lord  Stanley,  minister  of  the  colonies,  introduced 
into  the  House  of  Commons  his  bill  for  the  Emanci 
pation. 

The  scheme  of  the  minister,  with  such  modifica 
tion  as  it  received  in  the  legislature,  proposed  gradual 
emancipation  ;  that  on  1st  August,  1834,  all  persons 
now  slaves  should  be  entitled  to  be  registered  as 
apprenticed  laborers,  and  to  acquire  thereby  all  the 
rights  and  privileges  of  freemen,  subject  to  the  re 
striction  of  laboring  under  certain  conditions.  These 
conditions  were,  that  the  prsedials  should  owe  three 
fourths  of  the  profits  of  their  labor  to  their  masters 
for  six  years,  and  the  nonprsedials  for  four  years. 
The  other  fourth  of  the  apprentice's  time  was  to  be 
his  own,  which  he  might  sell  to  his  master,  or  to 
other  persons ;  and  at  the  end  «f  the  term  of  years 
fixed,  he  should  be  free. 

With  these  provisions  nd  conditions,  the  bill 
proceeds,  in  the  twelfU"  ection,  in  the  following 
terms.  "  Be  it  enactH,  that  all  and  every  person 
who,  on  the  1st  Aiv'tist,  1834,  shall  be  holden  in 
slavery  within  any  *  A  British  colony  as  aforesaid, 


EMANCIPATION  ADDRESS.  219 

shall  upon  and  from  and  after  the  said  1st  August, 
become  and  be  to  all  intents  and  purposes  free, 
and  discharged  of  and  from  all  manner  of  slavery, 
and  shall  be  absolutely  and  forever  manumitted ; 
and  that  the  children  thereafter  born  to  any  such 
persons,  and  the  offspring  of  such  children,  shall, 
in  like  manner,  be  free  from  their  birth  ;  and  that 
from  and  after  the  1st  August,  1834,  slavery 
shall  be  and  is  hereby  utterly  and  forever  abol 
ished  and  declared  unlawful  throughout  the  British 
colonies,  plantations,  and  possessions  abroad." 

The  ministers,  having  estimated  the  slave  prod 
ucts  of  the  colonies  in  annual  exports  of  sugar,  rum, 
and  coffee,  at  £1,500,000  per  annum,  estimated  the 
total  value  of  the  slave-property  at  30,000,000 
pounds  sterling,  and  proposed  to  give  the  planters, 
as  a  compensation  for  so  much  of  the  slaves'  time, 
a*  the  act  took  from  them,  20,000,000  pounds  ster 
ling,  to  be  divided  into  nineteen  shares  for  the 
nineteen  colonies,  and  to  be  distributed  to  the  own 
ers  of  slaves  by  commissioners,  whose  appointment 
and  duties  were  regulated  by  the  Act.  After  much 
debate,  the  bill  passed  by  large  majorities.  The 
apprenticeship  system  is  understood  to  have  pro 
ceeded  from  Lord  Brougham,  and  was  by  him 
urged  on  his  colleagues,  who,  it  is  said,  were  in 
clined  to  the  policy  of  immediate  emancipation. 

The  colonial  legislatures  received  the  act  of  Par 
liament  with  various  degrees  of  displeasure,  and, 
of  course,  every  provision  of  the  bill  was  criticised 


220  EMANCIPATION  ADDRESS. 

with  severity.  The  new  relation  between  the  mas 
ter  and  the  apprentice,  it  was  feared,  would  be  mis 
chievous  ;  for  the  bill  required  the  appointment  of 
magistrates,  who  should  hear  every  complaint  of 
the  apprentice,  and  see  that  justice  was  done  him. 
It  was  feared  that  the  interest  of  the  master  and 
servant  would  now  produce  perpetual  discord  be 
tween  them.  In  the  island  of  Antigua,  containing 
37,000  people,  30,000  being  negroes,  these  objec 
tions  had  such  weight,  that  the  legislature  rejected 
the  apprenticeship  system,  and  adopted  absolute 
emancipation.  In  the  other  islands  the  system  of 
the  ministry  was  accepted. 

The  reception  of  it  by  the  negro  population  was 
equal  in  nobleness  to  the  deed.  The  negroes  were 
called  together  by  the  missionaries  and  by  the 
planters,  and  the  news  explained  to  them.  On  the 
night  of  the  31st  July,  they  met  everywhere  at 
their  churches  and  chapels,  and  at  midnight,  when 
the  clock  struck  twelve,  on  their  knees,  the  silent, 
weeping  assembly  became  men  ;  they  rose  and  em 
braced  each  other ;  they  cried,  they  sung,  they 
prayed,  they  were  wild  with  joy,  but  there  was  no 
riot,  no  feasting.  I  have  never  read  anything  in 
history  more  touching  than  the  moderation  of  the 
negroes.  Some  American  captains  left  the  shore 
and  put  to  sea,  anticipating  insurrection  and  gen 
eral  murder.  With  far  different  thoughts,  the  ne 
groes  spent  the  hour  in  their  huts  and  chapels.  I 
will  not  repeat  to  you  the  well-known  paragraph 


EMANCIPATION  ADDRESS.  221 

in  which  Messrs.  Thome  and  Kimball,  the  com 
missioners  sent  out  in  the  year  1837  by  the  Ameri 
can  Anti-slavery  Society,  describe  the  occurrences 
of  that  night  in  the  island  of  Antigna.  It  has  been 
quoted  in  every  newspaper,  and  Dr.  Ch  ami  ing  has 
given  it  additional  fame.  But  I  must  be  indulged 
in  quoting  a  few  sentences  from  the  pages  that  fol 
low  it,  narrating  the  behavior  of  the  emancipated 
people  on  the  next  day. 

*  "  The  first  of  August  came  on  Friday,  and  a 
release  was  proclaimed  from  all  work  until  the  next 
Monday.     The  day  was  chiefly  spent  by  the  great 
mass  of  the  negroes  in  the  churches  and  chapels. 
The  clergy  and  missionaries  throughout  the  island 
were  actively  engaged,  seizing  the  opportunity  to 
enlighten  the  people  on  all  the  duties  and  responsi 
bilities  of  their  new  relation,  and  urging  them  to 
the  attainment  of  that  higher  liberty  with  which 
Christ  maketh  his  children  free.     In  every  quarter, 
we   were   assured,    the   day   was    like   a   sabbath. 
"Work  had  ceased.     The  hum  of  business  was  still : 
tranquillity  pervaded  the  towns  and  country.     The 
planters  informed  us,  that  they  went  to  the  chapels 
where   their  own  people  were  assembled,  greeted 
them,  shook  hands  with  them,  and  exchanged  the 
most  hearty   good  wishes.     At  Grace   Hill,   there 
were  at  least  a  thousand  persons  around  the  Mora- 

*  "  Emancipation  in  the  West  Indies  :  a  Six  Months  Tour  in 
Antigua,  Barbadoes,  and  Jamaica,  in  the  year  1837.     By  J.  A 
Thome  and  J.  H.  Kimball.     New  York,  18'i8."— pp.146,'  Ii7, 


222  EMANCIPATION  ADDRESS. 

vian  Chapel  who  could  not  get  in.  For  once  the 
house  of  God  suffered  violence,  and  the  violent  took 
it  by  force.  At  Grace  Bay,  the  people,  all  dressed 
in  white,  formed  a  procession,  and  walked  arm  in  arm 
into  the  chapel.  We  were  told  that  the  dress  of 
the  negroes  on  that  occasion  was  uncommonly  sim 
ple  and  modest.  There  was  not  the  least  disposi 
tion  to  gayety.  Throughout  the  island,  there  was 
not  a  single  dance  known  of,  either  day  or  night, 
nor  so  much  as  a  fiddle  played." 

On  the  next  Monday  morning,  with  very  few  ex 
ceptions,  every  negro  on  every  plantation  was  in  the 
field  at  his  work.  In  some  places,  they  waited  to 
see  their  master,  to  know  what  bargain  he  would 
make ;  but,  for  the  most  part,  throughout  the  islands, 
nothing  painful  occurred.  In  June,  1835,  the  min 
isters,  Lord  Aberdeen  and  Sir  George  Grey,  declared 
to  the  Parliament,  that  the  system  worked  well  ; 
that  now  for  ten  months,  from  1st  August,  1834,  no 
injury  or  violence  had  been  offered  to  any  white, 
and  only  one  black  had  been  hurt  in  800,000  ne 
groes  :  and,  contrary  to  many  sinister  predictions, 
that  the  new  crop  of  island  produce  would  not  fall 
short  of  that  of  the  last  year. 

But  the  habit  of  oppression  was  not  destroyed  by 
a  law  and  a  day  of  jubilee.  It  soon  appeared  in  all 
the  islands,  that  the  planters  were  disposed  to  use 
their  old  privileges,  and  overwork  the  apprentices ; 
to  take  from  them,  under  various  pretences,  their 
fourth  part  of  their  time ;  and  to  exert  the  same 


EMANCIPATION  ADDRESS.  223 

licentious  despotism  as  before.  The  negroes  com 
plained  to  the  magistrates,  and  to  the  governor.  In 
the  island  of  Jamaica,  this  ill  blood  continually  grew 
worse.  The  governors,  Lord  Bel  more,  the  Earl  of 
Sligo,  and  afterwards  Sir  Lionel  Smith,  (a  governor 
of  their  own  class,  who  had  been  sent  out  to  gratify 
the  planters,)  threw  themselves  on  the  side  of  the 
oppressed,  and  are  at  constant  quarrel  with  the  an 
gry  and  bilious  island  legislature.  Nothing  can  ex 
ceed  the  ill  humor  and  sulkiness  of  the  addresses  of 
this  assembly. 

I  may  here  express  a  general  remark,  which  the 
history  of  slavery  seems  to  justify,  that  it  is  not 
founded  solely  on  the  avarice  of  the  planter.  We 
sometimes  say,  the  planter  does  not  want  slaves,  he 
only  wants  the  immunities  and  the  luxuries  which 
the  slaves  yield  him  ;  give  him  money,  give  him  a 
machine  that  will  yield  him  as  much  money  as  the 
slaves,  and  he  will  thankfully  let  them  go.  He  has 
no  love  of  slavery,  he  wants  luxury,  and  he  will  pay 
even  this  price  of  crime  and  danger  for  it.  But  I 
think  experience  does  not  warrant  this  favorable 
distinction,  but  shows  the  existence,  beside  the  cov- 
etousness,  of  a  bitter  element,  the  love  of  power,  the 
voluptuousness  of  holding  a  human  being  in  his  ab 
solute  control.  We  sometimes  observe,  that  spoiled 
children  contract  a  habit  of  annoying  quite  wantonly 
those  who  have  charge  of  them,  and  seem  to  meas. 
nre  their  own  sense  of  well-being,  not  by  what  thej 
do,  but  by  the  degree  of  reaction  they  can  cause.  J' 


224:  EMANCIPATION  ADDRESS. 

is  vain  to  get  rid  of  them  by  not  minding  them  :  if 
purring  and  humming  is  not  noticed,  they  squeal 
and  screech  ;  then  if  you  chide  and  console  them, 
they  find  the  experiment  succeeds,  and  they  begin 
again.  The  child  will  sit  in  your  arms  contented, 
provided  you  do  nothing.  If  you  take  a  book  and 
read,  he  commences  hostile  operations.  The  planter 
is  the  spoiled  child  of  his  unnatural  habits,  and  has 
contracted  in  his  indolent  and  luxurious  climate  the 
need  of  excitement  by  irritating  and  tormenting  his 
slave. 

Sir  Lionel  Smith  defended  the  poor  negro  girls, 
prey  to  the  licentiousness  of  the  planters  ;  they  shall 
not  be  whipped  with  tamarind  rods,  if  they  do  not 
comply  with  their  master's  will  ;  he  defended  the 
negro  women  ;  they  should  not  be  made  to  dig  the 
cane-holes,  (which  is  the  very  hardest  of  the  field- 
work  ;)  he  defended  the  Baptist  preachers  and  the 
stipendiary  magistrates,  who  are  the  negroes'  friends, 
from  the  power  of  the  planter.  The  power  of  the 
planters,  however,  to  oppress,  was  greater  than  the 
power  of  the  apprentice  and  of  his  guardians  to 
withstand.  Lord  Brougham  and  Mr.  Buxton  de 
clared  that  the  planter  had  not  fulfilled  his  part  in 
the  contract,  whilst  the  apprentices  had  fulfilled 
theirs  ;  and  demanded  that  the  emancipation  should 
be  hastened,  and  the  apprenticeship  abolished. 
Parliament  was  compelled  to  pass  additional  laws  for 
the  defence  and  security  of  the  negro,  and  in  ill 
humor  at  these  acts,  the  great  island  of  Jamaica, 


EMANCIPATION  ADDRESS.  225 

with  a  population  of  half  a  million,  and  300,000  ne 
groes,  early  in  1838,  resolved  to  throw  np  the  two 
remaining  years  of  apprenticeship,  and  to  emanci 
pate  absolutely  on  the  1st  August,  1838.  In  Brit 
ish  Guiana,  in  Dominica,  the  same  resolution  had 
been  earlier  taken  with  more  good  will ;  and  the 
other  islands  fell  into  the  measure  ;  so  that  on  the 
1st  August,  1838,  the  shackles  dropped  from  every 
British  slave.  The  accounts  which  we  have  from 
all  parties,  both  from  the  planters,  and  those  too  who 
were  originally  most  opposed  to  the  measure,  and 
from  the  new  freemen,  are  of  the  most  satisfactory 
kind.  The  manner  in  which  the  new  festival  was 
celebrated,  brings  tears  to  the  eyes.  The  First  of 
August,  1838,  was  observed  in  Jamaica  as  a  day  of 
thanksgiving  and  prayer.  Sir  Lionel  Smith,  the 
governor,  writes  to  the  British  Ministry,  "  It  is  im 
possible  for  me  to  do  justice  to  the  good  order,  de 
corum,  and  gratitude,  which  the  whole  laboring 
population  manifested  on  that  happy  occasion. 
Though  joy  beamed  on  every  countenance,  it  was 
throughout  tempered  with  solemn  thankfulness  to 
God,  and  the  churches  and  chapels  were  everywhere 
filled  with  these  happy  people  in  humble  offering  of 
praise." 

The  Queen,  in  her  speech  to  the  Lords  and  Com 
mons,  praised  the  conduct  of  the  emancipated  pop 
ulation  :  and  in  1840,  Sir  Charles  Metcalfe,  the  new 
governor  of  Jamaica,  in  his  address  to  the  Assem- 
^y,  expressed  himself  to  that  late  exasperated  body 
15 


226  EMANCIPATION  ADDRESS. 

in  these  terms :  "  All  those  who  are  acquainted  with 
the  state  of  the  island,  know  that  our  emancipated 
population  are  as  free,  as  independent  in  their  con 
duct,  as  well-conditioned,  as  much  in  the  enjoyment 
of  abundance,  and  as  strongly  sensible  of  the  bless 
ings  of  liberty,  as  any  that  we  know  of  in  any 
country.  All  disqualifications  and  distinctions  of 
color  have  ceased ;  men  of  all  colors  have  equal 
rights  in  law,  and  an  equal  footing  in  society,  and 
every  man's  position  is  settled  by  the  same  circum 
stances  which  regulate  that  point  in  other  free 
countries,  where  no  difference  of  color  exists.  It 
may  be  asserted,  without  fear  of  denial,  that  the 
former  slaves  of  Jamaica  are  now  as  secure  in  all 
social  rights,  as  freeborn  Britons."  He  further  de 
scribes  the  erection  of  numerous  churches,  chapels, 
and  schools,  which  the  new  population  required, 
and  adds  that  more  are  still  demanded.  The  legis 
lature,  in  their  reply,  echo  the  governor's  statement, 
and  say,  "  The  peaceful  demeanor  of  the  emanci 
pated  population  redounds  to  their  own  credit,  and 
affords  a  proof  of  their  continued  comfort  and  pros 
perity." 

I  said,  this  event  is  signal  in  the  history  of  civili 
zation.  There  are  many  styles  of  civilization,  and 
not  one  only.  Ours  is  full  of  barbarities.  There 
are  many  faculties  in  man,  each  of  which  takes  its 
turn  of  activity,  and  that  faculty  which  is  para 
mount  in  any  period,  and  exerts  itself  through  the 
strongest  nation,  determines  the  civility  of  that 


EMANCIPATION  ADDRESS.  227 

age  ;  and  each  age  thinks  its  own  the  perfection  of 
reason.  Our  culture  is  very  cheap  and  intelligible. 
Unroof  any  house,  and  you  shall  find  it.  The  well- 
being  consists  in  having  a  sufficiency  of  coffee  and 
toast,  with  a  daily  newspaper ;  a  well-glazed  parlor, 
with  marbles,  mirror,  and  centre-table  ;  arid  the  ex 
citement  of  a  few  parties  and  a  few  rides  in  a  year. 
Such  as  one  house,  such  are  all.  The  owner  of  a 
Xew  York  manor  imitates  the  mansion  and  equi 
page  of  the  London  nobleman  ;  the  Boston  merchant 
rivals  his  brother  of  New  York  ;  and  the  villages 
copy  Boston.  There  have  been  nations  elevated  by 
great  sentiments.  Such  was  the  civility  of  Sparta 
and  the  Dorian  race,  whilst  it  was  defective  in  some 
of  the  chief  elements  of  ours.  That  of  Athens, 
again,  lay  in  an  intellect  dedicated  to  beauty.  That 
of  Asia  Minor  in  poetry,  music,  and  arts  ;  that  of 
Palestine  in  piety ;  that  of  Rome  in  military  arts 
and  virtues,  exalted  by  a  prodigious  magnanim 
ity  ;  that  of  China  and  Japan  in  the  last  exaggera 
tion  of  decorum  and  etiquette.  Our  civility,  Eng 
land  determines  the  style  of,  inasmuch  as  England 
is  the  strongest  of  the  family  of  existing  nations, 
and  as  we  are  the  expansion  of  that  people.  It  is 
that  of  a  trading  nation  ;  it  is  a  shopkeeping  civil 
ity.  The  English  lord  is  a  retired  shopkeeper,  and 
has  the  prejudices  and  timidities  of  that  profession. 
And  we  are  shopkeepers,  and  have  acquired  the 
vices  and  virtues  that  belong  to  trade.  We  peddle, 
we  truck,  we  sail,  we  row,  we  ride  in  cars,  we  creep 


228  EMANCIPATION  ADDRESS. 

in  teams,  we  go  in  canals — to  market,  and  for  the 
sale  of  goods.  The  national  aim  and  employment 
streams  into  our  ways  of  thinking,  our  laws,  our 
habits,  and  our  manners.  The  customer  is  the  imme 
diate  jewel  of  our  souls.  Him  we  flatter,  him  we 
feast,  compliment,  vote  for,  and  will  not  contradict. 
It  was  or  it  seemed  the  dictate  of  trade,  to  keep  the 
negro  down.  We  had  found  a  race  who  were  less 
warlike,  and  less  energetic  shopkeepers  than  we ; 
who  had  very  little  skill  in  trade.  "We  found  it  very 
convenient  to  keep  them  at  work,  since,  by  the  aid 
of  a  little  whipping,  we  could  get  their  work  for 
nothing  but  their  board  and  the  cost  of  whips. 
"What  if  it  cost  a  few  unpleasant  scenes  on  the  coast 
of  Africa  ?  That  was  a  great  way  off  ;  arid  the 
scenes  could  be  endured  by  some  sturdy,  unscrupu 
lous  fellows,  who  could  go  for  high  wages,  and  bring 
us  the  men,  and  need  not  trouble  our  ears  with  the 
disagreeable  particulars.  If  any  mention  was  made 
of  homicide,  madness,  adultery,  and  intolerable  tort 
ures,  we  would  let  the  church  bells  ring  louder,  the 
church-organ  swell  its  peal,  and  drown  the  hideous 
sound.  The  sugar  they  raised  was  excellent :  no 
body  tasted  blood  in  it.  The  coffee  was  fragrant; 
the  tobacco  was  incense ;  the  brandy  made  nations 
happy ;  the  cotton  clothed  the  world.  What !  all 
raised  by  these  men,  and  no  wages  ?  Excellent ! 
What  a  convenience !  They  seemed  created  by  prov 
idence  to  bear  the  heat  and  the  whipping,  and 
make  these  fine  articles. 


EMANCIPATION  ADDRESS.  229 

But  unhappily,  most  unhappily,  gentlemen,  man 
is  born  with  intellect,  as  well  as  with  a  love  of  sugar, 
and  with  a  sense  of  justice,  as  well  as  a  taste  for 
strong  drink.  These  ripened,  as  well  as  those. 
You  could  not  educate  him,  you  could  not  get  any 
poetry,  any  wisdom,  any  beauty  in  woman,  any 
strong  and  commanding  character  in  man,  but  these 
absurdities  would  still  come  flashing  out, — these  ab 
surdities  of  a  demand  for  justice,  a  generosity  for 
the  weak  and  oppressed.  Unhappily,  too,  for  the 
planter,  the  laws  of  nature  are  in  harmony  with  each 
other  :  that  which  the  head  and  the  heart  demand, 
is  found  to  be,  in  the  long  run,  for  what  the  grossest 
calculator  calls  his  advantage.  The  moral  sense  is 
always  supported  by  the  permanent  interest  of  the 
parties.  Else,  I  know  not  how,  in  our  world,  any 
good  would  ever  get  done.  It  was  shown  to  the 
planters  that  they,  as  well  as  the  negroes,  were 
slaves ;  that  though  they  paid  no  wages,  they  got 
very  poor  work  ;  that  their  estates  were  ruining 
them,  under  the  finest  climate  ;  and  that  they  needed 
the  severest  monopoly  laws  at  home  to  keep  them 
from  bankruptcy.  The  oppression  of  the  slave  re 
coiled  on  them.  They  were  full  of  vices;  their 
children  were  lumps  of  pride,  sloth,  sensuality  and 
rottenness.  The  position  of  woman  was  nearly  as 
bad  as  it  could  be,  and,  like  other  robbers,  they 
could  not  sleep  in  security.  Many  planters  have 
said,  since  the  emancipation,  that,  before  that  day, 
they  were  the  greatest  slaves  on  the  estates.  Slav- 


230  EMANCIPATION  ADDRESS. 

ery  is  no  scholar,  no  improver;  it  does  not  love  tint 
whistle  of  the  railroad ;  it  does  not  love  the  news 
paper,  the  mailbag,  a  college,  a  book,  or  a  preacher 
who  has  the  absurd  whim  of  saying  what  he  thinks ; 
it  does  not  increase  the  white  population ;  it  does 
not  improve  the  soil;  everything  goes  to  decay. 
For  these  reasons,  the  islands  proved  bad  customers 
to  England.  It  was  very  easy  for  manufacturers 
less  shrewd  than  those  of  Birmingham  and  Man 
chester  to  see,  that  if  the  state  of  things  in  the  is 
lands  was  altered,  if  the  slaves  had  wages,  the  slaves 
would  be  clothed,  would  build  houses,  would  fill 
them  with  tools,  with  pottery,  with  crockery,  with 
hardware;  and  negro  women  love  fine  clothes  as 
well  as  white  women.  In  every  naked  negro  of 
those  thousands,  they  saw  a  future  customer.  Mean 
time,  they  saw  further,  that  the  slave-trade,  by  keep 
ing  in  barbarism  the  whole  coast  of  eastern  Africa, 
deprives  them  of  countries  and  nations  of  customers, 
if  once  freedom  and  civility,  and  European  manners 
could  get  a  foothold  there.  But  the  trade  could  not 
be  abolished,  whilst  this  hungry  West  Indian  market, 
with  an  appetite  like  the  grave,  cried,  "  More,  more, 
bring  me  a  hundred  a  day  ;  "  they  could  not  expect 
any  mitigation  in  the  madness  of  the  poor  African 
war-chiefs.  These  considerations  opened  the  eyes 
of  the  .dullest  in  Britain.  More  than  this,  the  West 
Indian  estate  was  owned  or  mortgaged  in  England, 
and  the  owner  and  the  mortgagee  had  very  plain 
intimations  that  the  feeling  of  English  liberty  was 


EMANCIPATION  ADDRESS.  231 

gull-ling  every  hour  new  mass  and  velocity,  and  the 
hostility  to  such  as  resisted  it,  would  be  fatal.  The 
House  of  Commons  would  destroy  the  protection  of 
island  produce,  and  interfere  on  English  politics  in 
the  island  legislation  :  so  they  hastened  to  make  the 
best  of  their  position,  and  accepted  the  bill. 

These  considerations,  I  doubt  not,  had  their 
weight,  the  interest  of  trade,  the  interest  of  the  rev 
enue,  and,  moreover,  the  good  fame  of  the  action. 
It  was  inevitable  that  men  should  feel  these  motives. 
But  they  do  not  appear  to  have  had  an  excessive  or 
unreasonable  weight.  On  reviewing  this  history, 
I  think  the  whole  transaction  reflects  infinite  honor 
on  the  people  and  parliament  of  England.  It  was 
a  stately  spectacle, .to  see  the  cause  of  human  rights 
argued  with  so  much  patience  and  generosity,  and 
with  such  a  mass  of  evidence  before  that  powerful 
people.  It  is  a  creditable  incident  in  the  Ms^oxy, 
that  when,  in  1789,  the  first  privy-council  report  of 
evidence  on  the  trade,  a  bulky  folio,  (embodying  all 
the  facts  which  the  London  Committee  had  been 
engaged  for  years  in  collecting,  and  all  the  examina* 
tions  before  the  council,)  was  presented  to  the  House 
of  Commons,  a  late  day  being  named  for  the  dis 
cussion,  in  order  to  give  members  time, — Mr.  Wil- 
berforce,  Mr.  Pitt,  the  prime  minister,  and  other 
gentlemen,  took  advantage  of  the  postponement,  to 
retire  into  the  country,  to  read  the  report.  For 
months  and  years  the  bill  was  debated,  with  some 
consciousness  of  the  extent  of  its  relations  by  the 


232  EMANCIPATION  ADDRESS. 

first  citizens  of  England,  the  foremost  men  of  the 
earth  ;  every  argument  was  weighed,  every  particle 
of  evidence  was  sifted,  and  laid  in  the  scale  ;  and  at 
last,  the  right  triumphed,  the  poor  man  was  vindi 
cated,  and  the  oppressor  was  flung  out.  I  know 
that  England  has  the  advantage  of  trying  the  ques 
tion  at  a  wide  distance  from  the  spot  where  the  nui 
sance  exists :  the  planters  are  not,  excepting  in  rare 
examples,  members  of  the  legislature.  The  extent 
of  the  empire,  and  the  magnitude  and  number  of 
other  questions  crowding  into  court,  keep  this  one 
in  balance,  and  prevent  it  from  obtaining  that  as 
cendency,  and  being  urged  with  that  intemperance, 
which  a  question  of  property  tends  to  acquire.  There 
are  causes  in  the  composition  of  the  British  legisla 
ture,  and  the  relation  of  its  leaders  to  the  country 
and  to  Europe,  which  exclude  much  that  is  pitiful 
and  injurious  in  other  legislative  assemblies.  From 
these  reasons,  the  question  was  discussed  with  a  rare 
independence  and  magnanimity.  It  was  not  nar 
rowed  down  to  a  paltry  electioneering  trap,  and,  I 
must  say,  a  delight  in  justice,  an  honest  tenderness 
for  the  poor  negro,  for  rnan  suffering  these  wrongs, 
combined  with  the  national  pride,  which  refused  to 
give  the  support  of  English  soil,  or  the  protection 
of  the  English  flag,  to  these  disgusting  violations  of 
nature. 

Forgive  me,  fellow-citizens,  if  I  own  to  you,  that 
in  the  last  few  days  that  my  attention  has  been  oc 
cupied  with  this  history,  I  have  not  been  able  to 


EMANCIPATION  ADDRESS.  233 

read  a  page  of  it,  without  the  most  painful  com 
parisons.  Whilst  I  have  read  of  England,  I  have 
thought  of  New  England.  Whilst  I  have  meditated 
in  my  solitary  walks  on  the  magnanimity  of  the 
English  Bench  and  Senate,  reaching  out  the  benefit 
of  the  law  to  the  most  helpless  citizen  in  her 
world-wide  realm,  I  have  found  myself  oppressed 
by  other  thoughts.  As  I  have  walked  in  the  past 
ures  and  along  the  edge  of  woods,  I  could  not  keep 
my  imagination  on  those  agreeable  figures,  for 
other  images  that  intruded  on  me.  I  could  not  see 
the  great  vision  of  the  patriots  and  senators  who 
have  adopted  the  slave's  cause : — they  turned  their 
backs  on  me.  No:  I  see  other  pictures— of  mean 
men :  I  see  very  poor,  very  ill-clothed,  very  igno 
rant  men,  not  surrounded  by  happy  friends, — to  be 
plain, — poor  black  men  of  obscure  employment  as 
mariners,  cooks,  or  stewards,  in  ships,  yet  citizens 
of  this  our  commonwealth  of  Massachusetts, — free- 
born  as  we, — whom  the  slave-laws  of  the  States  of 
South  Carolina,  Georgia,  and  Louisiana,  have  ar 
rested  in  the  vessels  in  which  they  visited  those 
ports,  and  shut  up  in  jails  so  long  as  the  vessel  re 
mained  in  port,  with  the  stringent  addition,  that  if 
the  shipmaster  fails  to  pay  the  costs  of  this  official 
arrest,  and  the  board  in  jail,  these  citizens  are  to  be 
sold  for  slaves,  to  pay  that  expense.  This  man, 
these  men,  I  see,  and  no  law  to  save  them.  Fellow- 
citizens,  this  crime  will  not  be  hushed  up  any  long 
er.  I  have  learned  that  a  citizen  of  Nantucket, 


234  EMANCIPATION  ADDRESS. 

walking  in  New  Orleans,  found  a  free-born  citizen 
of  Nan  tucket,  a  man,  too,  of  great  personal  worth, 
and,  as  it  happened,  very  dear  to  him,  as  having 
saved  his  own  life,  working  chained  in  the  streets 
of  that  city,  kidnapped  by  such  a  process  as  this. 
In  the  sleep  of  the  laws,  the  private  interference  of 
two  excellent  citizens  of  Boston  has,  I  have  ascer 
tained,  rescued  several  natives  of  this  State  from 
these  southern  prisons.  Gentlemen,  I  thought  the 
deck  of  a  Massachusetts  ship  was  as  much  the 
territory  of  Massachusetts,  as  the  floor  on  which  we 
stand.  It  should  be  as  sacred  as  the  temple  of  God. 
The  poorest  fishing-smack,  that  floats  under  the 
shadow  of  an  iceberg  in  the  northern  seas,  or  hunts 
the  whale  in  the  southern  ocean,  should  be  encom 
passed  by  her  laws  with  comfort  and  protection,  as 
much  as  within  the  arms  of  Cape  Ann  and  Cape 
Cod.  And  this  kidnapping  is  suffered  within  our 
own  land  and  federation,  whilst  the  fourth  article 
of  the  Constitution  of  the  United  States  ordains  in 
terms,  that,  "  The  citizens  of  each  State  shall  be  en 
titled  to  all  privileges  and  immunities  of  citizens  in 
the  several  States."  If  such  a  damnable  outrage 
can  be  committed  on  the  person  of  a  citizen  with 
impunity,  let  the  Governor  break  the  broad  seal  of 
the  State  ;  he  bears  the  sword  in  vain.  The  Gov 
ernor  of  Massachusetts  is  a  trifler :  the  State-house 
in  Boston  is  a  play-house :  the  General  Court  is  a 
dishonored  body :  if  they  make  laws  which  they  can 
not  execute.  The  great-hearted  Puritans  have  left 


EMANCIPATION  ADDRESS.  235 

no  posterity.  The  rich  men  may  walk  in  State- 
street,  but  they  walk  without  honor ;  and  the  far 
mers  may  brag  their  democracy  in  the  country,  but 
they  are  disgraced  men.  If  the  State  has  no  power 
to  defend  its  own  people  in  its  own  shipping,  because 
it  has  delegated  that  power  to  the  Federal  Govern 
ment,  has  it  no  representation  i:i  the  Federal  Gov 
ernment  ?  Are  those  men  dumb  ?  I  am  no  law 
yer,  and  cannot  indicate  the  forms  applicable  to  the 
case,  but  here  is  something  which  transcends  all 
forms.  Let  the  senators  and  representatives  of  the 
State,  containing  a  population  of  a  million  freemen, 
go  in  a  body  before  the  Congress,  and  say,  that  they 
have  a  demand  to  make  on  them  so  imperative,  that 
all  functions  of  government  must  stop  until  it  is 
satisfied.  If  ordinary  legislation  cannot  reach  it, 
then  extraordinary  must  be  applied.  The  Congress 
should  instruct  the  President  to  send  to  those  ports 
of  Charleston,  Savannah,  and  Kew  Orleans,  such 
orders  and  such  force,  as  should  release,  forthwith, 
all  sncli  citizens  of  Massachusetts  as  were  holden  in 
prison  without  the  allegation  of  any  crime,  and 
should  set  on  foot  the  strictest  inquisition  to  dis 
cover  where  such  persons,  brought  into  slavery  by 
these  local  laws,  at  any  time  heretofore,  may  now 
be.  That  first ; — and  then,  let  order  be  taken  to 
indemnify  all  such  as  have  been  incarcerated.  As 
for  dangers  to  the  Union,  from  such  demands ! — the 
Union  is  already  at  an  end,  when  the  first  citizen  of 
Massachusetts  is  thus  outraged.  Is  it  an  union  and 


23C  EMANCIPATION  ADDRESS. 

covenant  in  which  the  State  of  Massachusetts  agrees 
to  be  imprisoned,  and  the  State  of  Carolina  to  im 
prison  ?  Gentlemen,  I  am  loath  to  say  harsh  things, 
and  perhaps  I  know  too  little  of  politics  for  the 
smallest  weight  to  attach  to  any  censure  of  mine, — 
but  I  am  at  a  loss  how  to  characterize  the  tameness 
and  silence  of  the  two  senators  and  the  ten  repre 
sentatives  of  the  State  at  Washington.  To  what 
purpose,  have  we  clothed  each  of  those  representa 
tives  with  the  power  of  seventy  thousand  persons, 
and  each  senator  with  near  half  a  million,  if  they 
are  to  sit  dumb  at  their  desks,  and  see  their  con 
stituents  captured  and  sold  ; — perhaps  to  gentlemen 
pitting  by  them  in  the  hall  ?  There  is  a  scandalous 
rumor  that  has  been  swelling  louder  of  late  years, 
— perhaps  it  is  wholly  false, — that  members  are 
bullied  into  silence  by  southern  gentlemen.  It  is  so 
easy  to  omit  to  speak,  or  even  to  be  absent  when 
delicate  things  are  to  be  handled.  I  may  as  well 
say  what  all  men  feel,  that  whilst  our  very  amiable 
and  very  innocent  representatives  and  senators  at 
Washington,  are  accomplished  lawyers  and  mer 
chants,  and  very  eloquent  at  dinners  and  at  caucuses, 
there  is  a  disastrous  want  of  men  from  New  Eng 
land.  I  would  gladly  make  exceptions,  and  you 
will  not  suffer  me  to  forget  one  eloquent  old  man, 
in  whose  veins  the  blood  of  Massachusetts  rolls, 
and  who  singly  has  defended  the  freedom  of  speech, 
and  the  rights  of  the  free,  against  the  usurpation 
of  the  slave-holder.  But  the  reader  of  Congress- 


EMANCIPATION  ADDRESS.  237 

ional  debates,  in  New  England,  is  perplexed  to  see 
with  what  admirable  sweetness  and  patience  the 
majority  of  the  free  States  are  schooled  and  ridden 
by  the  minority  of  slave-holders.  "What  if  we 
should  send  thither  representatives  who  were  a 
particle  less  amiable  and  less  innocent  ?  I  entreat 
yon,  sirs,  let  not  this  stain  attach,  let  not  this  misery 
accumulate  any  longer.  If  the  managers  of  our 
political  parties  are  too  prudent  and  too  cold  ; — if, 
most  unhappily,  the  ambitious  class  of  young  men 
and  political  men  have  found  out,  that  these  neg 
lected  victims  are  poor  and  without  weight ;  that 
they  have  no  graceful  hospitalities  to  offer  ;  no  val 
uable  business  to  throw  into  any  man's  hands,  no 
strong  vote  to  cast  at  the  elections  ;  and  therefore 
may  with  impunity  be  left  in  their  chains  or  to  the 
chance  of  chains,  then  let  the  citizens  in  their 
primary  capacity  take  up  their  cause  on  this  very 
ground,  and  say  to  the  government  of  the  State, 
and  of  the  Union,  that  government  exists  to  defend 
the  weak  and  the  poor  and  the  injured  party  ;  the 
rich  and  the  strong  can  better  take  care  of  them 
selves.  And  as  an  omen  and  assurance  of  success, 
I  point  you  to  the  bright  example  which  England 
set  you,  on  this  day,  ten  years  ago. 

There  are  other  comparisons  and  other  impera 
tive  duties  which  come  sadly  to  mind, — but  I  do 
not  wish  to  darken  the  hours  of  this  day  by  crimi 
nation  :  I  turn  gladly  to  the  rightful  theme,  to  the 
bright  aspects  of  the  occasion. 


238  EMANCIPATION  ADDRESS. 

This  event  was  a  moral  revolution.  The  history 
of  it  is  before  you.  Here  was  no  prodigy,  no  fabu 
lous  hero,  no  Trojan  horse,  no  bloody  war,  but  all 
was  achieved  by  plain  means  of  plain  men,  working 
not  under  a  leader,  but  under  a  sentiment.  Other 
revolutions  have  been  the  insurrection  of  the  op 
pressed  ;  this  was  the  repentance  of  the  tyrant.  It 
was  the  masters  revolting  from  their  mastery.  The 
slave-holder  said,  I  will  not  hold  slaves.  The  end 
was  noble,  and  the  means  were  pure.  Hence,  the 
elevation  and  pathos  of  this  chapter  of  history. 
The  lives  of  the  advocates  are  pages  of  greatness, 
and  the  connection  of  the  eminent  senators  with 
this  question,  constitutes  the  immortalizing  mo 
ments  of  those  men's  lives.  The  bare  enunciation 
of  the  theses,  at  which  the  lawyers  and  legislators 
arrived,  gives  a  glow  to  the  heart  of  the  reader. 
Lord  Chancellor  Northington  is  the  author  of  the 
famous  sentence,  "  As  soon  as  any  man  puts  his 
foot  on  English  ground,  he  becomes  free."  "  I 
was  a  slave,"  said  the  counsel  of  Somerset,  speaking 
for  his  client,  "  for  I  was  in  America  :  I  am  now  in 
a  country,  where  the  common  rights  of  mankind 
are  known  and  regarded."  Granville  Sharpe  filled 
the  ear  of  the  judges  with  the  sound  principles, 
that  had  from  time  to  time  been  affirmed  by  the 
legal  authorities.  "Derived  power  cannot  be  supe 
rior  to  the  power  from  which  it  is  derived."  "  The 
reasonableness  of  the  law  is  the  soul  of  the  law." 
"  It  is  better  to  suffer  every  evil,  than  to  consent 


EMANCIPATION  ADDRESS.  230 

to  any."  Out  it  would  come,  the  God's  truth,  out 
it  came,  like  a  bolt  from  a  cloud,  for  all  the  mum 
bling  of  the  lawyers.  One  feels  very  sensibly  in  all 
this  history  that  a  great  heart  and  soul  are  behind 
there,  superior  to  any  man,  and  making  use  of  each, 
in  turn,  and  infinitely  attractive  to  every  person  ac 
cording  to  the  degree  of  reason  in  his  own  mind,  so 
that  this  cause  has  had  the  power  to  draw  to  it  every 
particle  of  talent  and  of  worth  in  England,  from  the 
beginning.  All  the  great  geniuses  of  the  British 
senate,  Fox,  Pitt,  Burke,  Grenville,  Sheridan,  Grey, 
Canning,  ranged  themselves  on  its  side :  the  poet 
Cowper  wrote  for  it :  Franklin,  Jefferson,  Washing 
ton,  in  this  country,  all  recorded  their  votes.  All 
men  remember  the  subtlety  and  the  fire  of  indigna 
tion,  which  the  Edinburgh  Review  contributed  to 
the  cause  ;  and  every  liberal  mind,  poet,  preacher, 
moralist,  statesman,  has  had  the  fortune  to  appear 
somewhere  for  this  cause.  On  the  other  part,  ap 
peared  the  reign  of  pounds  and  shillings,  and  all 
manner  of  rage  and  stupidity ;  a  resistance  which 
drew  from  Mr.  Huddlestone  in  Parliament  the  ob 
servation,  "  That  a  curse  attended  this  trade  even 
in  the  mode  of  defending  it.  By  a  certain  fatality, 
none  but  the  vilest  arguments  were  brought  for 
ward,  which  corrupted  the  very  persons  who  used 
them.  Every  one  of  these  was  built  on  the  nar 
row  ground  of  interest,  of  pecuniary  profit,  of  sordid 
gain,  in  opposition  to  every  motive  that  had  refer 
ence  to  humanity,  justice,  and  religion,  or  to  that 


240  EMANCIPATION  ADDRESS. 

great  principle  which  comprehended  them  all."— 
This  moral  force  perpetually  reinforces  and  dig 
nifies  the  friends  of  this  cause.  It  gave  that  ten 
acity  to  their  point  which  has  insured  ultimate 
triumph  ;  and  it  gave  that  superiority  in  reason, 
in  imagery,  in  eloquence,  which  makes  in  all  coun 
tries  anti-slavery  meetings  so  attractive  to  the  peo 
ple,  and  has  made  it  a  proverb  in  Massachusetts, 
that,  "  eloquence  is  dog-cheap  at  the  anti-slavery 
chapel!" 

I  will  say  further,  that  we  are  indebted  mainly  to 
this  movement,  and  to  the  continuers  of  it,  for  the 
popular  discussion  of  every  point  of  practical  ethics, 
and  a  reference  of  every  question  to  the  absolute 
standard.  It  is  notorious,  that  the  political,  relig 
ious,  and  social  schemes,  with  which  the  minds  of 
men  are  now  most  occupied,  have  been  matured,  or 
at  least  broached,  in  the  free  and  daring  discussions 
of  these  assemblies.  Men  have  become  aware 
through  the  emancipation,  and  kindred  events,  of 
the  presence  of  powers,  which,  in  their  days  of 
darkness,  they  had  overlooked.  Virtuous  men  will 
not  again  rely  on  political  agents.  They  have  found 
out  the  deleterious  effect  of  political  association. 
Up  to  this  day,  we  have  allowed  to  statesmen  a  para 
mount  social  standing,  and  we  bow  low  to  them  as 
to  the  great.  We  cannot  extend  this  deference  to 
them  any  longer.  The  secret  cannot  be  kept,  that 
the  seats  of  power  are  filled  by  underlings,  ignorant, 
timid,  and  selfish,  to  a  degree  to  destroy  all  claim. 


EMANCIPATION  ADDRESS.  241 

excepting  that  on  compassion,  to  the  society  of  the 
just  and  generous.  What  happened  notoriously  to 
an  American  ambassador  in  England,  that  he  found 
himself  compelled  to  palter,  and  to  disguise  the  fact 
that  he  was  a  slave-breeder,  happens  to  men  of 
state.  Their  vocation  is  a  presumption  against  them, 
among  well-meaning  people.  The  superstition  re 
specting  power  and  office,  is  going  to  the  ground. 
The  stream  of  human  affairs  flows  its  own  way,  and 
is  very  little  affected  by  the  activity  of  legislators. 
What  great  masses  of  men  wish  done,  will  be  done ; 
and  they  do  not  wish  it  for  a  freak,  but  because  it 
is  their  state  and  natural  end.  There  are  now  other 
energies  than  force,  other  than  political,  which  no 
man  in  future  can  allow  himself  to  disregard.  There 
is  direct  conversation  and  influence.  A  man  is  to 
make  himself  felt,  by  his  proper  force.  The  ten 
dency  of  things  runs  steadily  to  this  point,  namely, 
to  put  every  man  on  his  merits,  and  to  give  him  so 
much  power  as  he  naturally  exerts — no  more,  no  less. 
Of  course,  the  timid  and  base  persons,  all  WT!IO  are 
conscious  of  no  worth  in  themselves,  and  who  owe 
all  their  place  to  the  opportunities  which  the  old 
order  of  things  allowed  them  to  deceive  and  defraud 
men,  shudder  at  the  change,  and  would  fain  silence 
every  honest  voice,  and  lock  up  every  house  where 
liberty  and  innovation  can  be  pleaded  for.  They 
would  raise  mobs,  for  fear  is  very  cruel.  But  the 
strong  and  healthy  yeomen  and  husbands  of  the  land, 
the  self-sustaining  class  of  inventive  and  industrious 
10 


242  EMANCIPATION  ADDRESS. 

men,  fear  no  competition  or  superiority.   Come  what 
will,  their  faculty  cannot  be  spared. 

The  first  of  August  marks  the  entrance  of  a  new 
element  into  modern  politics,  namely,  the  civiliza 
tion  of  the  negro.  A  man  is  added  to  the  human 
family.  Not  the  least  affecting  part  of  this  history 
of  abolition,  is,  the  annihilation  of  the  old  indecent 
nonsense  about  the  nature  of  the  negro.  In  the 
case  of  the  ship  Zong,  in  1781,  whose  master  had 
thrown  one  hundred  and  thirty-two  slaves  alive  in 
to  the  sea,  to  cheat  the  underwriters,  the  first  jury 
gave  a  verdict  in  favor  of  the  master  and  owners  : 
they  had  a  right  to  do  what  they  had  done.  Lord 
Mansfield  is  reported  to  have  said  on  the  bench, 
"  The  matter  left  to  the  jury  is, — Was  it  from  neces 
sity  ?  For  they  had  no  doubt, — though  it  shocks  one 
very  much, — that  the  case  of  slaves  was  the  same  as 
if  horses  had  been  thrown  overboard.  It  is  a  very 
shocking  case."  But  a  more  enlightened  and  hu 
mane  opinion  began  to  prevail.  Mr.  Clarkson,  early 
in  his  career,  made  a  collection  of  African  produc 
tions  and  manufactures,  as  specimens  of  the  arts  and 
culture  of  the  negro ;  comprising  cloths  and  loom, 
weapons,  polished  stones  and  woods,  leather,  glass, 
dyes,  ornaments,  soap,  pipe-bowls,  and  trinkets. 
These  be  showed  to  Mr.  Pitt,  who  saw  and  handled 
them  with  extreme  interest.  "  On  sight  of  these," 
says  Clarkson,  "  many  sublime  thoughts  seemed  to 
rush  at  once  into  his  mind,  some  of  which  he  ex^ 
pressed  :  "  and  hence  appeared  to  rise  a  project  which 


EMANCIPATION  ADDRESS.  243 

was  always  dear  to  him,  of  the  civilization  of  Africa, 
— a  dream  which  forever  elevates  his  fame.  In  1791, 
Mr.  Wilberforce  announced  to  the  House  of  Com 
mons,  "  We  have  already  gained  one  victory :  we 
have  obtained  for  these  poor  creatures  the  recogni 
tion  of  their  human  nature,  which  for  a  time,  was 
most  shamefully  denied  them."  It  was  the  sarcasm 
of  Montesquieu,  "  it  would  not  do  to  suppose  that 
negroes  were  men,  lest  it  should  turn  out  that 
whites  were  not ;  "  for  the  white  has,  for  ages,  done 
whas  he  could  to  keep  the  negro  in  that  hoggish 
state.  His  laws  have  been  furies.  It  now  appears, 
that  the  negro  race  is,  more  than  any  other,  suscep 
tible  of  rapid  civilization.  The  emancipation  is  ob 
served,  in  the  islands,  to  have  wrought  for  the  ne 
gro  a  benefit  as  sudden  as  when  a  thermometer  is 
brought  out  of  the  shade  into  the  sun.  It  has  given 
him  eyes  and  ears.  If,  before,  he  was  taxed  with 
such  stupidity,  or  such  defective  vision,  that  he  could 
not  set  a  table  square  to  the  walls  of  an  apartment, 
he  is  now  the  principal,  if  not  the  only  mechanic, 
in  the  West  Indies ;  and  is,  besides,  an  architect,  a 
physician,  a  lawyer,  a  magistrate,  an  editor,  and  a 
valued  and  increasing  political  power.  The  recent 
testimonies  of  Sturge,  of  Thome  and  Kimball,  of 
Gurney,  of  Philippo,  are  very  explicit  on  this  point, 
the  capacity  and  the  success  of  the  colored  and  the 
black  population  in  employments  of  skill,  of  profit, 
and  of  trust ;  and,  best  of  all,  is  the  testimony  to 
their  moderation.  They  receive  hints  and  advances 


244  EMANCIPATION  ADDRESS. 

from  the  whites,  that  they  will  be  gladly  received  aa 
subscribers  to  the  Exchange,  as  members  of  this  or 
that  committee  of  trust.  They  hold  back,  and  say 
to  each  other,  that  "  social  position  is  not  to  be 
gained  by  pushing." 

I  have  said  that  this  event  interests  us  because  it 
came  mainly  from  the  concession  of  the  whites  ;  I 
add,  that  in  part  it  is  the  earning  of  the  blacks. 
They  won  the  pity  and  respect  which  they  have  re 
ceived,  by  their  powers  and  native  endowments.  I 
think  this  a  circumstance  of  the  highest  import. 
Their  whole  future  is  in  it.  Our  planet,  before  the 
age  of  written  history,  had  its  races  of  savages,  like 
the  generations  of  sour  paste,  or  the  animalcules  that 
wriggle  and  bite  in  a  drop  of  putrid  water.  Who 
cares  for  these  or  for  their  wars  ?  We  do  not  wish 
a  world  of  bugs  or  of  birds  ;  neither  afterward  of 
Scythians,  Caraibs,  or  Feejees.  The  grand  style  of 
nature,  her  great  periods,  is  all  \ve  observe  in  them. 
Who  cares  for  oppressing  whites,  or  oppressed 
blacks,  twenty  centuries  ago,  more  than  for  bad 
dreams  ?  Eaters  and  food  are  in  the  harmony  of 
nature  ;  and  there  too  is  the  germ  forever  protected, 
unfolding  gigantic  leaf  after  leaf,  a  newer  flower,  a 
richer  fruit,  in  every  period,  yet  its  next  product  is 
never  to  be  guessed.  It  will  only  save  what  is 
worth  saving ;  and  it  saves  not  by  compassion,  but 
by  power.  It  appoints  no  police  to  guard  the  lion, 
but  his  teeth  and  claws ;  no  fort  or  city  for  the 
bird,  but  his  wings ;  no  rescue  for  flies  and  mites 


EMANCIPATION  ADDRESS.  245 

but  their  spawning  numbers,  which  no  ravages  can 
overcome.  It  deals  with  men  after  the  same  man 
ner.  If  they  are  rude  and  foolish,  down  they  must 
go.  When  at  last  in  a  race,  a  new  principle  ap 
pears,  an  idea, — that  conserves  it ;  ideas  only  save 
races.  If  the  black  man  is  feeble,  and  not  impor 
tant  to  the  existing  races,  not  on  a  parity  with  the 
best  race,  the  black  man  must  serve,  and  be  exter 
minated.  But  if  the  black  man  carries  in  his  bosom 
an  indispensable  element  of  a  new  and  coming  civ 
ilization,  for  the  sake  of  that  element,  no  wrong, 
nor  strength,  nor  circumstance,  can  hurt  him :  he 
will  survive  arid  play  his  part.  So  now,  the  arrival 
in  the  world  of  such  men  as  Toussaint,  and  the 
Haytian  heroes,  or  of  the  leaders  of  their  race  in 
Barbadoes  and  Jamaica,  outweighs  in  good  omen 
all  the  English  and  American  humanity.  The 
anti-slavery  of  the  whole  world,  is  dust  in  the  bal 
ance  before  this, — is  a  poor  squeamishness  and  ner 
vousness  :  the  might  and  the  right  are  here :  here 
is  the  anti-slave  :  here  is  man  :  and  if  you  have  man, 
black  or  white  is  an  insignificance.  The  intellect, 
— that  is  miraculous !  Who  has  it,  has  the  talis 
man  :  his  skin  and  bones,  though  they  were  of  the 
color  of  night,  are  transparent,  and  the  everlasting 
stars  shine  through,  with  attractive  beams.  But  a 
compassion  for  that  which  is  not  and  cannot  be  use 
ful  or  lovely,  is  degrading  and  futile.  All  the 
songs,  and  newspapers,  and  money-subscriptions, 
and  vituperation  of  such  as  do  not  think  with  us, 


EMANCIPATION  ADDRESS. 

will  avail  nothing  against  a  fact.  I  say  to  you,  you 
must  save  yourself,  black  or  white,  man  or  woman  ; 
other  help  is  none.  I  esteem  the  occasion  of  this 
jubilee  to  be  the  proud  discovery,  that  the  black 
race  can  contend  with  the  white ;  that,  in  the  great 
anthem  which  we  call  history,  a  piece  of  many 
parts  and  vast  compass,  after  playing  a  long  time  a 
very  low  and  subdued  accompaniment,  they  per 
ceive  the  time  arrived  when  they  can  strike  in  with 
effect,  and  take  a  master's  part  in  the  music.  The 
civility  of  the  world  has  reached  that  pitch,  that 
their  more  moral  genius  is  becoming  indispensable, 
and  the  quality  of  this  race  is  to  be  honored  for  it 
self.  For  this,  they  have  been  preserved  in  sandy 
deserts,  in  rice-swamps,  in  kitchens  and  shoe-shops, 
so  long :  now  let  them  emerge,  clothed,  and  in  their 
own  form. 

There  remains  the  very  elevated  consideration 
which  the  subject  opens,  but  which  belongs  to  more 
abstract  views  than  we  are  now  taking,  this  name 
ly,  that  the  civility  of  no  race  can  be  perfect  whilst 
another  race  is  degraded.  It  is  a  doctrine  alike  of 
the  oldest,  and  of  the  newest  philosophy,  that,  man 
is  one,  and  that  you  cannot  injure  any  member, 
without  a  sympathetic  injury  to  all  the  members. 
America  is  not  civil,  whilst  Africa  is  barbarous. 

These  considerations  seem  to  leave  no  choice  for 
the  action  of  the  intellect  and  the  conscience  of  the 
country.  There  have  been  moments  in  this,  as 
well  as  in  every  piece  of  moral  history,  when  there 


EMANCIPATION  ADDRESS.  247 

seemed  room  for  the  infusions  of  a  sceptical  philos 
ophy  ;  when  it  seemed  doubtful,  whether  brute 
force  would  not  triumph  in  the  eternal  struggle.  I 
doubt  not,  that  sometimes  a  despairing  negro,  when 
jumping  over  the  ship's  sides  to  escape  from  the 
white  devils  who  surrounded  him,  has  believed 
there  was  no  vindication  of  right ;  it  is  horrible  to 
think  of,  but  it  seemed  so.  I  doubt  not,  that  some 
times  the  negro's  friend,  in  the  face  of  scornful  and 
brutal  hundreds  of  traders  and  drivers,  has  felt  his 
heart  sink.  Especially,  it  seems  to  me,  some  de 
gree  of  despondency  is  pardonable,  when  he  ob 
serves  the  men  of  conscience  and  of  intellect,  his 
own  natural  allies  and  champions, — those  whose  at 
tention  should  be  nailed  to  the  grand  objects  of  this 
cause,  so  hotly  offended  by  whatever  incidental  pet 
ulances  or  infirmities  of  indiscreet  defenders  of  tno 
negro,  as  to  permit  themselves  to  be  ranged  with 
the  enemies  of  the  human  race  ;  and  names  which 
should  be  the  alarums  of  liberty  and  the  watch 
words  of  truth,  are  mixed  up  with  all  the  rotten 
rabble  of  selfishness  and  tyranny.  I  assure  myself 
that  this  coldness  and  blindness  will  pass  away.  A 
single  noble  wind  of  sentiment  will  scatter  them 
forever.  I  am  sure  that  the  good  and  wise  elders, 
the  ardent  and  generous  youth  will  not  permit  what 
is  incidental  and  exceptional  to  withdraw  their  de 
votion  from  the  essential  and  permanent  characters 
of  the  question.  There  have  been  moments,  I  said, 
when  men  might  be  forgiven,  who  doubted.  Those 


248  EMANCIPATION  ADDRESS. 

moments  are  past.  Seen  in  masses,  it  cannot  be 
disputed,  there  is  progress  in  human  society.  There 
is  a  blessed  necessity  by  which  the  interest  of  men 
is  always  driving  them  to  the  right ;  and,  again, 
making  all  crime  mean  and  ugly.  The  genius  of 
the  Saxon  race,  friendly  to  liberty  ;  the  enterprise, 
the  very  muscular  vigor  of  this  nation,  are  incon 
sistent  with  slavery.  The  Intellect,  with  blazing 
eye,  looking  through  history  from  the  beginning 
onward,  gazes  on  this  blot,  and  it  disappears.  The 
sentiment  of  Right,  once  very  low  and  indistinct, 
but  ever  more  articulate,  because  it  is  the  voice  of 
the  universe,  pronounces  Freedom.  The  Power 
that  built  this  fabric  of  things  affirms  it  in  the 
heart ;  and  in  the  history  of  the  First  of  August, 
has  made  a  sign  to  the  ages  of  his  wilL 


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2  2  1979  REC'fl 

JAN  2  7  '81 

JAN  2  0  1981  REC'D 

'72  (Q4585s8)  —  3A-1 


FEB    382 

4  J982  « 


$B>2i199|tt^ 
SEP  2  7 1999  REC'D 


PS1608.A161  1 


3  2106  00206  77 


